The Crux of the Matter
by sshk0409
Summary: Since 4x01 is still up in the air, I needed to resolve how Chloe will handle the Truth. A Lucifer story taking place immediately after the season 3 finale. Thank you for reading and feedback welcome. #SaveLucifer
1. Chapter 1

I woke up in a strange room, the light of the setting sun flooding the space. I didn't remember coming to this place, or lying down. I didn't remember much of anything right away. I didn't _want_ to remember. So I focused on my immediate surroundings.

The room was huge, easily large enough to contain my living room and most of my kitchen, but for all that, it only contained the king sized bed I was lying on, a single night stand, and an overstuffed easy chair. No lamps, no dresser. Open sliding glass doors led to a balcony, and let in the scents and sounds of the ocean.

Speaking of scents… I could, unfortunately, smell myself…. And feel the grit on my skin. Plaster, gun powder, sweat, and something burned…. Feathers? My mind shied away from the memories. I refused to think about _that_ until I had to.

Shower. I oozed out of bed, discovering that yes, indeed, I was going to have a lovely bruise across my chest if it wasn't there already. The darker of the two archways led to a dressing room/closet: dark colored wooden built ins, a full length mirror, dust free shelves and drawers, and rods filled with hangers. All empty. My entire wardrobe would barely fill up a single section of this room. And another archway leading to a bathroom easily half as big as the bedroom. It had a spa tub with seats for two, a double sink and a separate vanity table complete with stool and lighted mirror, and a shower stall with jets that came at you from every direction.

Finally clean, and wrapped in a towel ( I couldn't bear the thought of putting my filthy clothes back on), I re-entered the bedroom to find a t-shirt and draw-string shorts neatly folded on the bed. Not my size, but beggars can't be choosers and all that. I dressed slowly, mentally preparing myself.

For the memories.

For the truth.

For Lucifer.

I found him in the kitchen on the lower level of the house, removing take out containers from paper bags. I recognized the logo; Dan and I had tried to get reservations there for an anniversary dinner one year. We called two months ahead only to find out that they were currently accepting reservations for a year and a half out.

Of course Lucifer would have no problem getting them to prepare a take out meal. The chef probably drove our food here himself, too, just to ensure nothing happened to his dishes along the way.

"I wasn't sure what you'd be hungry for, so I ordered a little bit of everything." A little bit of everything was an understatement. Garden salad, Caesar salad, chicken and rice soup, clam chowder, salmon with asparagus and mashed potatoes, spaghetti and meatballs, grilled chicken with rice pilaf and a vegetable ratatouille, and for dessert cheesecake and tiramisu. I'm sure the menu descriptions made each dish sound fancier. And alongside that were two bottles of wine that I was pretty sure from the labels had been paired by a professional sommelier for these dishes and not just bottles of a red and white pulled randomly from a wine rack. We ate standing up, just picking bites out of the containers. In silence…. Every now and then he would take a deep breath and let it out. Like he was preparing to say something…. But didn't know how to start.

I mean, how do you start a conversation after revealing yourself to be the _actual Devil_? I suppose it's easy to _say_ you're the Devil, because no one will believe you. At worst, they would think you belong on medication or in a mental institution. At best, they think you mean you embrace all things carnal or that you're some sort of crime boss. Or that you think of yourself as evil, like I did. Even Ella, who really does believe in God, didn't believe The Devil was standing before her.

I finished eating, poured myself another glass of the red, and headed out to the deck. What was it with Lucifer and balconies/decks? I'd now been to three of his homes, and each had striking similarities. The easy access to the outdoors being one. The wide open rooms minimally furnished and designed for luxurious comfort for another. And the complete lack of internal doors.

In the penthouse, it kind of made sense. Only one person lived there, so I guess maybe you don't need to be able to shut the bathroom door? But here? There was another bedroom across the hall from where I woke up. Based on the sterility of that room, I guessed it was also a guest room. And while there were no other guests at the moment, I would assume that the people who could potentially sleep in these rooms would at least like the _option_ of shutting a door for privacy….

I didn't hear him follow me outside. But I could smell his approach: whiskey, cigarettes and soap. And _him_. I could see his shadow snaking up the deck railing. For the first time since I woke up, I looked at him fully. _God, he's beautiful._ I thought back to _that_ face. Red, ruined, scarred. Eyes burning with the flames of Hell. Monstrous was the word he used not even 24 hours ago. Here was a walking illustration of the word _dichotomy_ : Beauty and the Beast, Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, Dorian Gray and his picture.

Time to stop dithering. "Why am I here?"

"I did suggest that Daniel take you home, but you insisted upon me driving you, and then you insisted on not going to your place. There's too much foot traffic through Lux and the penthouse, so…. This place is peaceful. I thought you might need that."

I didn't remember that conversation. Not really. Bits and pieces dribbled into my head. Telling Dan to keep his hands off me, that I wasn't going to the hospital to have my bruise looked at. That Lucifer was quite capable of taking me home. Biting my lip to stop myself from screaming when he squeezed his body behind the steering wheel of my car and his hand accidentally brushed my arm lying on the armrest.

"To be honest, Detective, you're taking this a lot better than I had feared…."

Well, I could be honest, too. I remembered this part quite clearly. "My first thought was to run. My second was to pull my weapon on you. My third was that you did tell me, and I…. God , was that only last night? I could hear you saying if I knew all of you, I would run away." He took a step in my direction, and I flinched; I couldn't help it. And he cringed. I had seen that look, that behavior, before in abused kids. Even after being removed from the abuser, they would have this preternatural stillness to them. An acute awareness of adults' movements. Always anticipating the next blow. Lucifer had that look; he _knew_ I was going to run. The question for him wasn't whether, but when.

He looked normal, sounded normal; this was the man who had worked at my side for over two years. Been my friend, my sounding board. The one person who aggravated me beyond all others. Who invaded my dreams. The catalyst for me to date Pierce, to agree to marry Pierce. To end my engagement.

And yet. He _wasn't_ the same person I had known for the past two years. He was Other. Literally not even a person! I wasn't going to run, at least not in this moment. But I also wasn't ready to return to 'normal'.

We both said, "I'm sorry". I turned back to the ocean and let its gentle rhythm wash away my tension. The last 24 hours had been an emotional roller coaster. And I was quite sure the ride was far from over. Lucifer admitting he had feelings for me. Charlotte. Dan. Pierce. More Pierce. Devil face. I needed to come to terms with all of that. Somehow.

Poor Dan: he had lost not only Charlotte, but the opportunity to be Lucifer's step-dad. We had had a good laugh over that, once.

Oh.

Bloody.

Hell.

How? How could Charlotte have been Lucifer's step-mom? If his dad was God, did that make Charlotte a Goddess? Or did God marry humans? I turned back. "How was Charlotte your step-mother?"

He sighed. "I suppose that's a natural question to have…. You might want to sit down for this." I made my way to a lounge chair and sat as he continued. "The short version of a very long story is that Mum ticked Dad off a few thousand years ago. And He sent Her to Hell. Well, She escaped last year. You remember the murder with the screwdriver? When we first met Charlotte?" I nodded. "The real Charlotte Richards died in that hotel room. Mum's soul lodged itself in Charlotte's body. But the soul of the Goddess of all Creation could not be contained in a human body. She started… leaking… Divine light. That's what killed Chet Ruiz. She had to leave Earth, but I didn't want to take her back to Hell. She wanted to return to Heaven. However, the gates to the Silver City are barred against the both of us… I had my sword, and I suppose I could have cut through them, but…. You once told me we had to move forward, not backwards, and I felt that letting Mum back in heaven would be going backwards. What went wrong between them was never resolved through the millennia they spent apart…. So. That day on the Pier… when She took you hostage. She had already hurt Linda. Amenadiel slowed time long enough for Maze to bring Linda to the hospital. And that gave me the time I needed to use the sword to cut a hole in the world. Mum left Charlotte's body to start over in her own brand new universe. And then Mum or Dad, I don't know who, decided to bring Charlotte out of Hell back to her body."

As far as a story went, it was rather fantastic. As in fantasy. Except it was real. A sword capable of cutting through the pearly gates, through the fabric of the world. A God and a Goddess. Angels and a demon. Slowing time. A tale that should have been found in a novel, not played out on the streets of LA. I couldn't even begin to imagine the immense power it took to create a universe. And he brushed it off as if it was an everyday occurrence.

I think that scared me more than the devil face.

'Do I scare you?' he had asked me once upon a time. And I had blithely told him no. Up until this afternoon my answer would still have been no. Even after seeing him shot with no ill effects. And holding full grown adults up by their throats with one hand. And pushing a man hard enough to shatter a plate glass window. And mesmerizing people into telling him their deepest secrets.

It wasn't that I was scared that he was going to hurt me…. Lucifer had never hurt me. Physically, at least. Well, once. But he didn't mean to. He just didn't want me touching his scars….

The scars from when Maze cut his wings off. Angel wings. Devil face. I curled into a ball on my lounge chair, closed my eyes, and just listened to the ocean. This was just… too much. Too fast.

I must have fallen asleep again, because the next time I opened my eyes, the sky had changed colors from deep blue-purple to black and the stars were out in force. And I was covered by a blanket. Lucifer was a blur of white shirt against the sky. "I don't know why I'm sleeping so much."

"Linda says you're either in shock or pregnant. And I need to allow you your rest in either case. And I'm _not_ to ask if you're the later."

"I'm not pregnant." And very glad to not be for multiple reasons. "You talked to Linda about me?" I squeaked. Yes, I squeaked. Not a very pleasant sound.

"And Daniel. And Ms. Lopez, Maze, Trixie, and your captain. They're all concerned about you. Daniel put you in for a few days off, by the way. Apparently your captain agreed that your civilian consultant and partner killing your lieutenant slash crime boss slash ex-fiancée in an apparent act of self-defense is a plausible excuse for not showing up to work. And I don't think you're pregnant; you don't look... bigger." I could hear his shirt rustling and could well imagine where his hands were emphasizing. Some things would never change; Lucifer checking out my chest being one of them.

Self-defense would explain why Lucifer was free to bring me here instead of being arrested for murder. I suddenly remembered Dan and the SWAT team bursting into the hall, and Lucifer dropping to his knees, hands clasped behind his head. And Dan whispering, "Get up, man. I'm not going to arrest you for killing that son of a bitch and protecting Chloe. Self-defense, ok? He attacked you, and you killed him in self-defense."

"This _is_ real, right?" I asked. "This isn't some nightmare I'm having? You really are the Devil? Pierce really was Cain?"

"Yes. It's all real." He sounded sad. Or resigned. "I could pinch you, if you'd like…."

"No, thanks," I muttered. I didn't need another bruise.

That was pretty much the only thing I was sure about. I almost wished Lucifer's trick worked on me. Then he could ask what my deepest, darkest desires were, and I'd have to answer. Because then I'd know, too.

Once upon a time, I knew exactly what I wanted. I had lost my husband, my professional reputation, my self-confidence. I had simple, attainable wants: to not be despised by my colleagues, to be seen as a competent detective, to be a good mother. Then Lucifer charged into my life like an irepressable puppy and knocked down all my emotional barriers. And helped me build them back up, the right way, until I felt able and whole again. Desired, both sexually and on a personal level. I wanted… more. Him. And I thought, _I knew_ , that he wanted me back. And not just as another notch on his bedpost.

"What are you thinking about?" Maybe listening to Lucifer talk (about himself, most likely) would get me out of my head.

"Everything that I haven't told you that you probably should know to make an informed decision."

"If you're going to start telling me the rest of the truth, I need you to turn on the lights. I need to see your eyes."

"I assure you, Detective, if my eyes start going red, you'll see them. Like two little lanterns glowing in the dark."

"You don't lie, but you don't always tell the whole truth." I quoted him. "I can see when you're holding back on me, when there's something you want to say, but you don't."

"I always tell you everything I want to tell you," he insisted. "Everything you need to know." I'm sure _he_ thought so. But I could easily think of several of our conversations, most of which were while I was dating Pierce, where he didn't tell me everything _I_ wanted to know.

We moved inside. He turned on a light over the kitchen island and lit a fire in the fireplace. I curled up with my blanket in a easy chair next to the fire. Enough light to see by. And more than slightly romantic.

He handed me a tumbler of scotch. "Since you're not pregnant…."

"Do you have children?"

He shuddered. "No. Thank Dad." He once claimed that he despised children. He still startled when Trixie hugged him, but at least he didn't tell her to go fetch anymore….

I couldn't begin to imagine him sitting in the stands cheering on a little league game. Or bragging that his kid scored the game winning goal. But I could picture him being absolutely enthralled by a baby…. Counting fingers and toes, giggling when it burped, crowing when it smiled a gas bubble at him. Singing it to sleep…. Confused as to how such a small being could possibly manage to overfill a diaper. Teaching a son to tie a tie, a daughter to dance. Carefully adjusting little fingers and wrists to better play the piano. Scolding when he discovered peanut butter and jelly fingerprints all over the keyboard. Being utterly bewildered when the toddler insisted on pointing out _every_ 'po-weese cah', 'friar fruck' and 'am-blee-ance' that passed by. Condemning Legos to Hell.

It was all too easy to see myself right alongside them.

"How do you know? Maybe you do have little half-human/half-devils running around."

"I should think not! One of my insufferable siblings would have let me know. And besides, humans and angels are completely different species. It would be like trying to breed a crocodile with a pig: you can't."

"Oh?" I glared at him. "And in this scenario, are humans the crocodiles? Or the pigs?"

"Would you prefer I say wolves and fluffy bunnies?" he grinned. I burst out laughing; I couldn't stop myself. And I kept going until my eyes were streaming and my stomach hurt. That lovely bruise on my chest _really_ hurt now. As I wiped the tears from my face, I looked across at him, looking more relaxed than he had all night. He was still shaking with remnants of laughter, too. And for the first time since I saw _that_ _face_ , my urge to run was not away, but through the few feet that separated us.

I was going to be ok.

We were going to be ok.

"We haven't laughed like that in a long time," I sighed. "I missed it."

"Me, too," he agreed softly.

"The first time we ever had a drink together… do you remember?" I nodded. "I said something like 'you can't deny there's a connection between us'." I nodded again. "I didn't know then the whole truth. Exactly what it was. I'm still not sure of everything; I've made a few guesses, but my assumptions seem to be extremely wrong lately…." He sipped his drink. "But this… thing… between us. It's why Pierce could shoot me, and I barely felt it. But you shot me, and I bled. It's why I went to Vegas while you were in the hospital, but not why I married Candy. Well, not entirely…." I could see he was nervous. I was torn between wanting to hold his hand to calm him down, and not wanting to be touched by him. Not yet.

"So…. The day you got hurt. I was pretty much decided that maybe we could be together…. I was going to ask you out on a proper date. And then Maze invited me to a bar. To an intervention, really. There was a picture on the wall of your mom when she was younger. With Amenadiel."

"What was Amenadiel doing with my mother?"

"I asked that exact question. Did your mother ever tell you she had trouble conceiving you?" I shook my head slowly, not really liking the direction this conversation was headed. "Dear old Dad," the sarcasm was dripping, "sent Amenadiel here to bless your mother. So she could have you."

I have to admit, I was floored by this revelation. _God_ intervened in my birth? God. Intervened. Indirectly, but still…. A being I had denied as real for pretty much my entire life decided I needed to be born. It was a pretty big ego boost as well as being the second scariest thing said tonight.

I mouthed the word _why_ , too disturbed to speak.

"We don't know. Everyone has their theories."

"Everyone?"

"Mum. Amenadiel, Maze. Linda. Pierce."

Linda? "Linda knows? Of course she does." Last year he had mentioned that he broke his therapist. He must have revealed his true nature to her. "So you found out about me, and…. Was that what you were yelling about in my bathroom? The 'did you know?'"

"Yes, I… I was rather upset I thought I was being manipulated by Dad. And I was afraid you were a willing participant."

"And that's also why you went to Vegas." It made sense. Typical Lucifer. Avoid discussing anything emotional. Leave me completely in the dark to wonder exactly what I'd done. Let me think that I was the one who drove him away because of a chaste kiss and a pat on the butt.

I wanted to slap him, to punch him. To make him feel my pain. "You hurt me, Lucifer." I said slowly. "I went way out of my comfort zone and kissed you. You held me and told me 'this is real'. You let me think you cared about me. And then you left me because of your Dad?" I could hear my voice getting louder and more shrill with each sentence, but I didn't care. "I get it, I do. Your Dad made me. And that's why I didn't react to your 'charms' when we first met. And why your mind trick doesn't work on me. But instead of explaining any of that, you just up and left me! And worse, you let your fight with your Dad be more important than us…. Than me!" He stood there, paralyzed. Mouth gaping like the proverbial fish. I stood up abruptly, blanket falling to the floor. "I'm going to bed now. I'll see you in the morning." I managed to not stomp across the floor, but it was awfully difficult not to.

Once in my room, I wished I had a door to slam. Something to take my frustrations out on. I tried punching a pillow, but that was not helpful in any way. The arrogant, aggravating… ass!

His voice came floating through the shadowy room. "I understand the darker of the human emotions: lust, anger, hate. I've spent millennia observing, and punishing, the absolute worst of humanity. But I was kicked out of Heaven long before any human souls arrived, so I never really got to see the good in people. And when I came to earth, well, I was looking for a good time not necessarily good people." He took a deep breath. "You need to understand, angels and demons don't love. It's not in our nature. To love is to consider something before yourself. And we… we tend to be a selfish lot."

I wished there was a lamp on the nightstand. All I had for light to see by was what little was shining through the open sliders. "What… what are you saying, Lucifer?"

"I'm trying to help you understand. Angels don't change. From the moment we were created, we were fixed. In personality. In likes and dislikes. In abilities.

"I was kicked out of Heaven for rebelling against my Father. And from then on, I did as I pleased. Took part in whatever pleasure was offered."

"I'm aware of that part…" I was more than well aware of the various Brittanies, both male and female, who made a pit stop in his bedroom.

"I'm not saying it right." He ran a hand through his hair. "I'm immortal. Nothing on the earthly plane can hurt me. And believe me, people have tried. Spears, arrows, swords, bullets. Until you. Part of what Dad did with you was to make me… more human. When I'm near you, I become vulnerable, mortal."

"I see."

"No, I don't think you do. Angels don't change. But I do. I did." He paused, as if he were waiting for me to make a connection. I felt pretty stupid, because I didn't see it. Sure, ok, he's physically vulnerable when he's around me. That explained why he bled when I shot him, and was just fine when Pierce did. I didn't really understand how it worked, but I supposed that not truly understanding the ways of God and the Divine was a natural part of being human….

"I knew you had feelings for me," he continued when I stayed silent. "I knew when I drove off to Las Vegas that I was going to hurt you. Horribly."

"But you did it anyway." I could hear the bitterness in my voice. The pain.

"I did. I didn't think you had a choice in the matter, that you were designed to care for me just like you were designed to be immune to my charms."

"Lucifer," I warned.

"Detective, no, listen. I need to say this." He grabbed my hands and squeezed. "I couldn't bear the thought that the woman I loved only loved me back because she had to. Because she was forced to." One hand came up to caress my cheek. "I tried to stay away….," he whispered, "For both our sakes. But I couldn't. And then I thought that if I kept you firmly in the friend zone, we could be pretty happy together. But then you started falling for Pierce, and I realized that I was wrong."

"Lucifer," I whispered. My insides were a mess. My heart was beating like mad, my stomach was doing flips, butterflies crawling up and down my spine. My skin felt too tight, too aware. I couldn't breath properly. Had I heard that right? Had Mr. Emotionally Constipated just said, out loud, that he loved me?

Instead of kissing me, he stepped back and turned on the overhead lights.

The living nightmare standing in front of me was naked except for a pair of black silk boxers. Every exposed inch of skin was red or black, burned. Charred. I stifled a scream, and forced myself to look.

"I am The Devil, Detective."

My unwilling feet crept closer, my hand stretched out to touch the scarred flesh. "Does it hurt?"

"No," his ruined face nestled into my fingers for a moment, "Not anymore."

And then _it_ was gone, and my Lucifer was back. He shook his shoulders, and a pair of blindingly white wings spotted with red and brown sprouted from his back. I had thought the wings at that auction were beautiful; these put them to shame. "They're exquisite. Can I… can I touch them?" I breathed.

"Yes, but be gentle. They're still healing." He smiled as my fingers brushed over the feathers.

"Healing?" I know I sounded like an idiot, but I was mesmerized. So beautiful….

"Yes, from earlier. They acted like a shield, protected us from Pierce's thugs." It was only then that I realized the red and brown spots were actually dried blood. A cold wave washed over me at the thought of anyone wanting to intentionally harm such exquisiteness. He shrugged again, and the wings folded away and disappeared.

"Now you've seen all of me. The angelic. The demonic. The man." He waited. I guess to see if I would start running. My feet were staying firmly rooted to the floor. 'A few weeks ago you asked me why it bothered me so much that you were with Pierce. I gave you _an_ answer. A truthful answer. But not the whole one." Another pause. "Earlier today, although I suppose it's yesterday now, you told me you didn't see me as the Devil. But that was before."

Yes. And that there was the crux of the matter, wasn't it. Could I still love this man, Devil, angel, now that I _knew_ exactly who and what he was? Now that the metaphors were gone? I stretched up on tiptoe, and pressed my lips to his. My hands reached up to clasp his neck as his hands reached around to pull me firmly into his body. A few minutes (or hours, I lost all sense of time) later, we finally parted enough to breath in some desperately needed air.

"Chloe… are you sure?" An echo of a dream from long ago.

"Yes."

Yes, I was.

"I love you."

* * *

Author's Note: I edited a bit because of Ray Ray calling Lucifer her older brother.

I have a couple paragraphs of a chapter 2 running in my mind. Please let me know in the comments if you want me to continue.


	2. Chapter 2

"I want you," I murmured into her neck.

"Yes," she sighed.

"Come to bed with me. Let me love you…."

"Yes…." The ess sound drawn out. I love hearing this woman say 'yes' to me. So the "No!" that followed was quite jarring. "I don't have my pills."

"What pills?" Was she sick?

" _The_ pill, she hissed."

It took me a moment, but I did figure it out. "I can't have children, remember?"

That earned me an eye roll. "You _couldn't_ have children…. Exactly how human do you become around me?"

The Detective had a point there. A rather good one, in fact. I had no clue as to my Father's thoughts about grandchildren, but I had no intention of obliging Him if He was for them… Damn. And of course I didn't keep condoms at _this_ house. Lux, however, had boxes of them sitting in the back to refill the bathroom dispensers. I was trying to decide if it would be better/easier for me to fly to Lux and back or to find an all night pharmacy or convenience store when a door downstairs slammed, and Trixie yelled, "Mom? Lucifer? Are you awake?"

What was the child doing here? There was still more than an hour until dawn…. What a way to further kill the mood! The Detective and I were finally communicating, nonverbally even, all (all right, some) of our secrets were out in the open, and now this. Although I must say, she turned a rather lovely shade of pink when she blushed. Enhanced, no doubt, by a slight beard burn….

"You need to go get dressed," she hissed at me before yelling, "Mommy's here, Monkey. I'll be down in a minute."

"Dressed? Why do I need to get dressed?" Yes, I was just in my pants, but Trixie saw just as much male skin at the beach. Or more if there were speedo wearers around. At least _I_ am good looking. And fit.

"I don't want Trixie to see you in your…" she gestured towards my waist, "boxers. She's only 9."

"Fine." I figured I might as well acquiesce; at most the child would give us five minutes; that was not enough time to get condoms _and_ have a quickie. On top of that I had two years of plans for the Detective to enact. Plans that counted time spent naked in days, not minutes.

Freshly showered and wearing a dress shirt and khakis, I found the Detective and Trixie in her room, this time pawing through a pile of clothes thrown haphazardly on the bed.

"Lucifer!" the child shrieked and launched herself at me. I had just enough time to brace myself for the impact. Barely. The Detective smiled at us, which I found odd considering our previous conversation. Me in my pants is inappropriate, but the child's nose pressed into my belly, and hands clasped over my… bum… is not? I tried to point this out, literally pointing at the child, but the Detective just shrugged.

"Charlotte got shot and killed," is what I _think_ the child told my stomach at the same time the Detective was complaining, "These are _not_ my clothes. Did you tell Maze to buy me these?"

"I asked Maze to _bring_ you clothes. I did _not_ tell her to _buy_ you anything," I said. "I did suggest comfortable for you, and pretty for me. And yes, Child, I know about Charlotte. We're all very sad."

"You asked Maze to do what?" The Detective was getting pretty close to shrieking.

"I thought you would want comfortable clothing to wear…. Was that wrong?"

"I was talking about the 'pretty' part. And Trixie wants to be cuddled right now; she's taking this hard…."

" _I_ have to look at you; I would rather see you in something pretty than your normal drab garb." The Detective refrained from sticking he tongue out at me, but I could tell she was tempted.

Cuddle a child. Yes. I suppose there's a first time for everything. I saw this in a movie once or twice. I managed to unwrap the leach clinging to me, sat on the bed, and folded her into a more palatable position on my lap. Patting her on the back and saying, "there, there," felt a bit awkward, but that's what the adults in the movies did, so….

Apparently I was doing something wrong because the Detective was glaring at me. "Lucifer, I need to change." Oh, maybe I wasn't cuddling wrong. Then what was the glare for? "Get out so I can change."

Oh, that. It's not like I haven't seen it before. Her front side was spectacular, and from the little I'd seen, her back side was just as nice. Maybe she didn't want her offspring to see her naked? "Why don't you use the dressing room?"

"I would, but there are no doors."

What was she talking about? "Of course there are doors. Just pull the silver tab in the doorway there and the door will slide out of the wall." I'd had the house renovated right after I purchased it. Got rid of all those hideous doors from Hell and replaced them with the ones that slide away into the wall. I despise doors. And door knobs; they deserve their own special room in Hell. The Detective grabbed some lace and satin undergarments and a deep blue dress and almost ran into the dressing room. Unfortunately for the Detective, sliding doors don't slam. Fortunately for me, the lace and satin bits looked interesting. Removing _them_ would be _quite_ fun.

The child in my lap hiccupped, unfortunately reminding me that seduction was going to have to wait. "You'll see Charlotte again, Trixie," I promised. "When it's your turn to go, she'll be in Heaven waiting for you."

Teary eyes blinked up at me. "Are you sure?" Great. I just hoped she left only tear stains on my shirt and not snot.

"Yes. I am the Devil, you know." She nodded. "Well, that means my brother, Amenadiel, is an angel." Her brown eyes grew wide. "He was there, you know. When Charlotte was shot. P…," I wasn't sure if anyone had told Trixie that Pierce was the one who killed Charlotte, but I thought I would keep mum on that just in case. "The bad man wanted to kill Amenadiel, but Charlotte got in the way. Amenadiel stayed with her until the end, so she wouldn't be scared. And then he took her soul to Heaven."

"Is it scary to die?"

"It depends, I suppose. I wasn't scared, but then I was expecting it. And I knew where I was going. My sister, Azrael, is the Angel of Death. She's the one who will come and get you."

"Is she nice?"

I could say that Azrael and I had been on opposing sides of my rebellion, and I haven't forgiven her for that. But I didn't think that would help the child fear death any less. "I haven't seen her in a very long time, Child. But she was one of my favorite siblings when we were young. I can tell Amenadiel to tell her to be extra nice to you, if you'd like…."

"Am I really going to go to Heaven?"

"I believe so. As long as you stay a good person, you will. You'll see your mom and dad, and your grandparents there."

"But not you." I smiled and the child squirmed in my lap to get just a little bit closer. I was going to miss the little imp when she passed. "I'll miss you, Lucifer. Maybe I'll be bad so I can be with you when I die."

"If I see you in Hell, Child, Maze and I will just have to break you out, hmmm?"

"Yeah, and then I can torture souls like Maze does!"

What a bloodthirsty little devil! It appeared that in the last few days, these two had gone back to being on speaking terms. "Speaking of Maze…. Why don't you go downstairs and see what she's burned you for breakfast?" Something was cooking down there. Pancakes maybe?

Trixie jumped off my lap and ran out the door, saying, "Linda is cooking breakfast, not Maze. She's outside watching the kids on the deck."

Linda was here? And kids? Plural? "Detective? Who exactly is here?" And what were they doing outside on my deck at half past it's-still-dark-outside-go-back-home-and-sleep-in-your-own-bed o'clock?

I stood up as the Detective came out of the dressing room looking absolutely stunning in that dress. The bodice clung in all the right places. And the skirt swung in all the right ways. Her normally grey eyes looked bluer. I began to reconsider that quickie… "Well… Maze and Linda brought food and Trixie. And these clothes. Maze told Dan she was coming here. I guess Dan must have told Elliot?"

Well that was a splash of cold water on the ardor. Daniel. In my house. "Who is Elliot?"

"Charlotte's ex. He brought their kids, Micah and Ivy."

I will never, ever, understand humans. What _is_ the thought process behind inviting your deceased girlfriend's ex-husband to the house of your ex-wife's current boyfriend? Not that Dan was aware of that recent development. But still….

Come to think of it, _was_ the Detective my girlfriend? We hadn't exactly talked about _us_ in the five minutes between revealing both my Devil face and angel wings and Trixie barging into the house. If there was even supposed to be a conversation about _us_. 'Will you go steady with me' was pretty common in movies about high school kids, but I'd never overheard anyone in real life asking that. It seemed like couples just slid from going on occasional dates to exclusively dating. "Detective… what are you going to tell them?"

"About you? Nothing. About us?" She sighed. "I think we should have that talk before we tell anyone. Don't you?"

"Sure."

"It's just that Dan's here, and he's obviously missing Charlotte…."

She was hedging. "Right…."

"And in the past few weeks, I've gone from being in a relationship with Pierce, breaking up, getting engaged, breaking up again. I just… I just think it'll be a little, umm, weird that all of a sudden, you and I are, ah, dating. I just think maybe we should keep this to ourselves for a few days. At least until after the funeral…."

I have learned a thing or two in my years with humans. One being that if a story changes within only a few sentences, the speaker is lying. "Fine." The Detective must have seen something in my face or heard something in my voice because she came over and snuggled against me.

Before Chloe, I didn't know it was possible to snuggle standing up. But she had this way of hugging me and then weaseling her head under my chin and wiggling against me until I hugged her back that really only could be described as snuggling.

"The truth is," she said to my shirt buttons, "I'm scared to tell everyone. We don't exactly have the greatest track record when it comes to relationships. I've lost count of how many times I…. I was waiting for you to say it first because… I had already tried to show you I liked you, and then you went off and got married! I couldn't… I didn't want to be rejected like that again. And then, there are all those people at your club… You have your pick of the most beautiful women… how can I compete against that?" She sighed. "When Pierce asked if I wanted to go to that concert with him, I knew if I said yes, it would be for all the wrong reasons. Then I threw myself into a relationship with him because he did treat me right…. He did. I wanted so much to fall in love with him; he was everything I should have wanted…. I tried so hard to fall in love with him. And then you'd come by, and act all surly or angry or that we were together. I sometimes just wanted to scream, 'You had your chance! You've made it perfectly clear you don't want me.' Except that if you had ever said, 'I want you to be with me' I'd have dumped Pierce in a heartbeat…. I kept asking you why did it bother you so much that I was with Pierce; I wanted so much for you to say it. Or kiss me. _Something_. I wanted that so much, I hurt. You just stood there each time and looked at me the way I felt inside. Like we were being sucker-punched or something. Over and over until it hurt to breathe sometimes. Until it hurt to be near you, but it hurt even more to be apart. And when you made dinner for me a few weeks ago…. There you were asking me to make a decision about our future, and I… I really thought you were going to propose, and I think that's why I said yes to _him_. Because I really wanted to say yes to _you_ …. But I knew that if you couldn't even tell me you loved me when we're together in the middle of the most romantic setting in my life, you were never going to say it… And that hurt, too. Because I knew I _could_ have told you how I felt, and I was afraid that maybe I was reading you wrong, and you really did just want to be friends…. Or just friends with benefits. So I kept silent. Even at our dinner on your balcony last year…. You were holding my hand, and I was half afraid, half hoping you were going to…. I didn't know what I would have answered, but I think 'yes' because otherwise why else would I have been looking at our hands and start wondering if you were a princess or an emerald cut kind of guy? I almost told you I loved you once…. I… I stopped myself just in time. Hoping that maybe you'd think I meant him, and..."

I stopped her ramblings by cradling her face in my hands and kissing her until we were both flushed and panting. And aching for each other. And then I just held her while we waited for our breathing to return to normal, for her eyes to return to lose their glassy-starry look, for her new beard burns to dissipate. For my body to accept that sex was _not_ going to be happening in the immediate future.

That was Hell of a lot to process.

"I'm sorry," she said quietly. "I shouldn't have said all that."

"No," I replied. "It needed to be said." I sighed and kissed her hair. "Besides, better out than in, right?"

She looked up at me and smiled. "That's referring to _vomit_ , Lucifer."

"That, too." I smiled back. And on a more serious note said, "I am sorry, you know. For hurting you. I wish I could say it was completely unintentional; to be honest, many times it was…. But there were times when I knew what you wanted me to say, and I wanted to say it, too, so very much, and I just couldn't.

"I can't tell you that I've _ever_ thought about marrying you, but if I ever do, I promise you will be the second person to find out."

"Second?" She sounded incredulous and angry, but yes, second.

"I will have to buy the ring first…. It's not like I keep engagement rings lying around Lux."

Her stomach chose that moment to grumble, reminding us both that there was food waiting for us downstairs. And people. "Well, I suppose that's my cue to…" she offered. I nodded. "We'll pick this up later?" I nodded again. Then she was gone, running lightly down the stairs.

I followed, slowly, not quite up to facing the hoard that awaited. Don't get me wrong; I love parties. The more the merrier and all that. But not here. This was my quiet place; I hadn't even invited Maze to join me here before.

On top of that, this wasn't a party. Daniel and Mr. Richards sat in quasi-identical poses at each end of the couch; elbows on knees and heads in hands. The kids were huddled in a corner on the floor staring intently at some hand held video game. My dining table was a mess of dirty dishes and smeared syrup. And Maze and Linda were out on the deck, sliders closed for a bit of privacy, gesturing wildly at each other.

Add that to my growing mental list of things to do. Contraception, continue talking with Chloe, talk to Maze about the rather poor choices she made over the last month or two.

Choices? Huh! Betrayals more like! Of everyone who cared about her. Though, to be fair, she did ask me to take her back to Hell before things got really bad, so did that mean I was at least partly culpable? I didn't make her do any of it, but I suppose I certainly didn't help matters….

Breakfast was pancakes poured from a bottle (Just add water and shake!) topped with imitation syrup and some version of 'oh yes, I most certainly can believe this is not butter'. At least the coffee was hot and fresh.

Ella showed up just as we finished cleaning the table and counters from the breakfast mess. The Detective and Daniel did some fast talking and managed to convince Mr. Richards that we had some police business to discuss, and he should not be there for this. So he and Linda took all three kids for a sunrise walk down the beach. And the rest of us gathered in my living room; Daniel and I sat in chairs while the three women sat on the couch. Well, Maze sprawled. Ella and the Detective sat.

"Let's start at the beginning," Daniel suggested. "Pierce was really a crime boss named the Sinnerman."

"If we're going to start with Pierce, let's start at the very beginning, " I interjected. "Dad gave humans two rules to follow. Treat each other with respect and don't eat from one particular tree."

Maze laughed. "And how would you know? You were too busy playing nymphs and satyrs!"

"I did know the rules; I just didn't always encourage people to follow them," I responded in my best Sunday School voice. "Anyway. I didn't meet them at the time, but there were two brothers in particular who didn't follow the first rule. Constantly getting in fights. Eventually one, Cain, killed the other, Abel. Abel went to Hell."

"Our first… guest." Mazikeen actually licked her lips in remembrance.

I ignored that and really hoped no one else saw. "Dad then put a curse on Cain. Forever doomed to walk the earth."

"Wait a minute," Chloe interrupted. "Was this what you were talking about that night we danced at Lux? You were trying to remove _Cain's_ curse?"

"What night you danced at Lux?" Ella squealed. "Chloe, you never told me you two danced!"

"When we were investigating that author's murder at her high school reunion I _may_ have mentioned that I didn't go to a prom. So Lucifer bought me a corsage and we, umm, danced."

Dan's hands squeezed into fists. "Did you sleep with my wife?" I would guess that Daniel knew exactly what supposedly went on after proms.

"Ex-wife, Daniel. And no, she still hasn't slept with me. I haven't given up hope, though." Chloe's face and neck were turning a beautiful shade of pink again. I watched the flush disappearing under the neckline of the dress and wondered exactly how far down it traveled. Chloe ahemed which brought my attention from her… dress… back to the story at hand. "So Cain has walked the earth for millennia, and wanted to die. He heard that I was living here in LA and that I became mortal when the Detective is around. He thought that if he got close to the Detective that he, too, would become mortal. He even arranged things so he would be shot in her presence. Obviously, he was wrong."

The Detective was outraged. "That was deliberate? He almost got me shot! If he hadn't pushed me out of the way…."

"He didn't want _you_ to die, Detective. He was as careful as he could be given that there were bullets flying. Not that that's an excuse; he was pretty ruthless in his desire to die back then.

"Anyway. After Pierce killed the fake Sinnerman, I figured out who he really was. We struck a bargain; I would help him find a way to break the Curse and die."

"You say the strangest things, Lucifer. I don't know about you, man."

"I'm telling you the truth, Daniel. You're going to have to suspend disbelief, and trust that I'm telling you the truth. No matter how crazy it sounds."

"Chloe, Ella, back me up here. You don't believe Pierce is actually Cain from the Bible, do you?"

Ella shrugged. "I've always thought the Eden story to be more of an allegory rather than history. But hey, if this guy," pointing at me, "Can walk around claiming he's the Devil? Sure, Pierce can be Cain."

"I've seen an awful lot that can't be explained any other way, Dan," the Detective hedged. "You know how Lucifer was stabbed a few weeks ago?" Chloe got up, walked over to me, and started unbuttoning my shirt.

"Detective!" I purred. "In public? I'm game if you are…." The blush came back, along with an eye roll. But she was smiling.

She pulled back my shirt, and gestured for Daniel to come over. "Stab wound to the left shoulder. Where's the scar?" Normally when people are staring at my chest, it's in admiration. This was slightly unnerving, having them looking for something that wasn't there. Especially since there was another fast fading scar not too far from where they were looking where Pierce had slashed me the day before. "And when Pierce first joined the department, he had a military tattoo on his right arm."

"Pierce did have nice arms," Ella mused. Now it was my turn to roll my eyes.

"When we started dating," the Detective continued, slightly louder and just slightly annoyed, "There was no tattoo anymore. Just this round scar."

"That scar was literally 'the Mark of Cain' you read about," I told them.

"And I bet when you read the autopsy report, there will be no birthmark or scar or tattoo on his arm mentioned. It wasn't there after we got engaged." Now she sounded angry; the Detective never did like being interrupted.

"So Lucifer heals really fast. And Marcus wore a fake tattoo," Daniel insisted, walking back to his chair and dropping into it heavily.

"No, I'm immortal and part of that means I don't have scars caused by mortal instruments." I corrected, buttoning up my shirt again. "Cain's curse was to never die. So his body kept rejuvenating itself. He told me he had to get that tattoo re-inked every few months."

"That's just insane."

"Let's just say, so we can get through this before Mr. Richards comes back, that all of your objections are noted for the record and overruled. Ok? May I finish?"

"Sure." He didn't sound sure.

"Good. Pierce and I started working together to try to find a way to break the Curse. But then the Detective almost got killed, so I told him we had to stop."

"I almost got killed because you were trying to break his curse? How?" This was turning into a bloody farce! At this rate, Mr. Richards would come strolling in just as we got to the 'cops covering up crimes' part.

"Yes, you said we can't go back and fix our mistakes, but I said that maybe I can, remember?" She nodded. "I went down to Hell and brought Abel's soul back. I intended for it to go into the body of a recently deceased elderly man… The idea was that Abel would die a peaceful death from old age, and Cain would no longer be a murderer. But instead, Abel went into a much younger, female, body. The movie producer's assistant?"

"Hold on," the Detective shook her head. "Is that why Bree Garland kept talking about the size of her 'flock'?"

"Uh, yeah," Maze offered. "Abel always did think of himself as a ladies' man."

"You put souls into dead bodies?" Ella wondered, "How cool would that be…. Hey, can you put my abuela's soul into a young body so she can kick my brothers' butts?"

"No, just… no. Can I finish?" It was my turn to glare at everybody in the room. "My plan would have failed either way because Abel walked out into the street and was hit and killed by an ambulance and the Curse stayed. In the meantime, though, the Detective and I almost got blown up. After that, I called it quits. But Pierce didn't. And a little while later, Pierce saw me get stabbed; more importantly, he saw how you reacted, Detective. He thought that I was vulnerable because you cared for me. So he decided to try and make you fall in love with him.

"He was wrong, by the way. In his attempts to make you fall for him, he started to care for you. And realized that he didn't want to hurt you. So he broke up with you. Ironically, being selfless, for the first time in his miserable existence, was most likely what broke his Curse. And then he realized that he didn't want to die right away; he wanted to live out the rest of his life with you, so he proposed. But then _you_ broke it off with _him_ , which I'm still not quite sure why you did that, by the way. And he realized he still wasn't ready to die."

"You know exactly why I broke it off with him, Lucifer. We had that discussion an hour ago?"

Oh bloody Hell, Detective! You just had to say it, didn't you. Daniel was glaring at me again. I gave him my most innocent look, trying to emote 'still haven't slept with your ex!'. Ms Lopez was practically jumping up and down in her seat. Apparently all it took to flip her from #Pecker (I hate that nickname) to #Deckerstar was a murder. I couldn't look at Chloe; if I did, I had the feeling I'd start grinning like a love stricken sap. As it was, I didn't refrain from smiling at the ceiling like the cat that got the cream. "No, Detective. You told me why you agreed to marry the oaf, not why you broke it off."

Ella was smirking, maybe hoping for some juicy gossip? "What _did_ Chloe tell you was her reason for marrying Pierce?"

It was the Detective's turn to emote, now. Her eyes were practically bugging out of her head hoping I wouldn't reveal her confidences. As if I would. On purpose. "He asked her." It was the truth, after all. Ella settled back against the couch, arms crossed, mouth pursed, upbeat personality momentarily deflated.

"So he asked me to help him kill Amenadiel." Maze picked up the story and drawing Daniel's attention away from me. Thank Dad. "Thinking that killing God's favorite son would get the Curse back. I…. I wanted to at first. But I couldn't go through with it." That little confession got Maze a few glares of her own. Maze, of course, glared right back.

Time to direct attention away before Maze started playing with her knives…. "And this brings us to the hillside. Pierce shot at Amenadiel. Charlotte stepped in the way. And you all know what happened next up until the Detective and I were ambushed.

Pierce wanted me dead. He said, correctly, that I would never stop hunting him for killing Charlotte. The Detective shot Pierce in the side. His goon shot her in the chest which knocked her unconscious. I protected us when the rest of Pierce's men opened fire on us. Once the air was full of enough dust and debris to hide our escape, I took Chloe to safety." No need to bring my wings into the conversation. "Then I went back, and fought Pierce's men. One managed to escape; the other three, as you saw, were rendered unconscious. Then Pierce and I fought and I made him stab himself with Maze's dagger."

"Which he stole from me. I didn't give it to him."

"The Detective came in, saw Pierce was dead, and went full on zombie mode. That's when you, Daniel and Ms Lopez, arrived." I left out my Devil face as the cause of said zombie mode and burning my feathers that were shot off. No need to add more confusion to the already confused.

"Lucifer called me and asked me to get a copy of my knife made as quickly as possible. That took a few hours, because he wanted a good enough copy to match the pictures taken at the crime scene. Dan and I broke into the morgue late last night, and I re-stabbed Pierce with the fake knife."

"And then I replaced the real murder weapon with the fake one in the evidence room." Dan offered.

"So that's why you asked me to not seal that evidence bag." Ella mused.

I looked around at the other co-conspirators sitting in my living room. The owner of the murder weapon. The one who stole evidence and replaced it with a fake. The one who allowed the fake evidence to be planted easily. Myself, Cain's murderer. And the person who held us all together. The five Musketeers: one goes down, we all go down.

We sat in silence for a moment. I guess that was a lot to try to absorb. And then we were saved by the bell.

Literally. My front door bell rang, and really didn't stop ringing for hours.

I've heard that cops take care of their own, but I've never experienced it. Even a cop who left the department to become a defense attorney for the richest scum in Los Angeles but then grew a conscience and returned as a prosecutor for the state is treated as one of the family. They showed up with their boxes of doughnuts and muffins, casseroles and lasagnas, salads of all sorts, desserts, candy, flowers, teddy bears, and condolence cards. Someone, who shall remain nameless but who works in forensics, 'accidently' sent an email to the entire department saying that the Richards family and Daniel were at my house. So to my house the department, singly or in pairs, and some of their wives (but no husbands, interestingly enough) trooped.

Pierce's name was never mentioned.

I didn't last long. After the fourth owner of a casserole dish brushed up against me suggestively and offered to show me how to turn on the oven, and four corresponding glares from the Detective, I decided to decamp. Before I did, however, I very much enjoyed the Detective asking one of the women how long one should cook a tart for, and the woman's bewildered expression as she explained that she had brought a chicken and broccoli dish, not a tart. Very possessive my Detective is. Apparently.

I escaped into my room on the third floor and found refuge in my piano. Beethoven, Chopin, Mozart, and Bach poured from my fingertips and soothed my soul. I played it all, mixing songs from every century since the invention of the pianoforte. I played until my hands ached and my back strained.

"That was beautiful."

"Doctor."

"We need to talk. A lot has happened in the last 72 hours, and I want to make sure you're OK."

"I'm fine, Doctor. Pierce is dead; I'm going to escape any earthly punishment for killing him. Chloe saw my Devil face and my angel wings and is doing rather well on being all right with that." I stood up from the piano bench and walked out to the patio. I waved Linda to a lounge chair as I sat in one myself.

"Lucifer, you went through a really hard time when you…. When Uriel died."

"When I killed him, you mean. Uriel was going to destroy Mum and kill the Detective. I did what I had to do to protect them. Pierce tried to kill the Detective and Maze, and he was going to kill me. I promised Pierce I would end his life, and I did. I have no regrets."

"You _say_ you have no regrets…. But taking a life is not easy."

"It was incredibly easy, Doctor. I'm faster and stronger than any human. He slightly evened the odds by using Maze's dagger, but…. He would have had to have the Devil's own luck to best me.

"I… I couldn't let him live. Not after what he did to Charlotte. I couldn't allow for him to escape human justice either. Or time for him to clear his conscience. I'm sure the Detective or Daniel would have shot him if I had let him live a few more minutes. But he and I made a bargain a few months ago. That _I_ would end his life. I tried to back out of that bargain, after the Detective was put in harm's way….

"No one breaks a deal with the Devil. Not even the Devil."

Linda shook her head. "But what about the one rule: that angels are not allowed to take a human life…"

"I tried to kill a human once… the fake Sinnerman? Held a knife to his throat and everything. I… I couldn't do it, though. I don't know if it was my Father's will or my own conscience that stopped me, but I just couldn't go through with it. Even the men I fought with yesterday. I grabbed one guy as he was shooting, and swung him around. He shot one of his mates; the guy is going to live despite being shot in a lung.

"With Pierce? I had no such problems. Whatever stopped me before, was completely absent. It didn't feel good; it did feel right. Like this was the punishment he deserved."

"But your Father… what repercussions will He take?"

"What else can He do to me, Doctor? Smite me out of existence? That's too quick, not enough of a punishment. Throw me into Hell? Been there. Done that. Bought the T-shirt. Take Chloe away from me? He's going to do that anyway! Whether it's tomorrow or next week or in 70 years, He's going to take her. He's going to take all of you. It's not like losing Chloe is going to hurt any more or any less if it comes in six months instead of 600." I laughed harshly. "He couldn't have come up with any greater punishment than what I'm going to go through when you're gone."

Linda's eyes welled up. "Oh, Lucifer… you've never said that before."

"I've never thought of it before. It came to me last night while I was watching the Detective sleep. What would I do if she ran. Would I stay here or return to Hell? Because without Chloe, would Earth be worse than Hell?"

"I'm so sorry. Maybe your Father has forgiven you? Maybe ten thousand years in Hell was enough of a punishment for something he knew was going to happen?"

"What do you mean, Doctor?"

"I mean, your Dad's all powerful and all knowing, right? So He _knew_ you were going to start a rebellion, and yet He did nothing to stop you. He let you try, and fail, and then sent you to Hell for your efforts. It's like putting a piece of candy in front of a child and then getting upset when the child pops the candy into its mouth. I know I've said it before, and you don't agree with me, but I still think your Father needed you to rule Hell. Not just any angel, _you_. The stories all say you were His favorite son…. And I think He knew that you would be able to rule Hell and not have it fundamentally change who you are. I think He knew you were strong enough to take the abuse mankind heaped on you over the years and still not hate us. But I also think He knew that you wouldn't understand why He needed for it to be you, so He allowed you to foment your rebellion, and used it as an excuse."

"But that's not what happened, Doctor. Dad wanted to destroy me; Mum persuaded Him to send me to Hell."

"Your Mother told you that? Your Mother who had a vested interest in keeping you upset at your Father? The same Mother who did not have the same affinity for telling the truth that you do?"

Oh. The Doctor did have a point there. Not that that meant her theory was correct, but it had potential.

"And I don't think He put Chloe here as part of your torment. I think He put her here so you could have a partner."

"And just what is that supposed to mean?"

"Your equals are angels. Your brothers and sisters, right? That's a completely different relationship than a partnership. Demons are your subordinates. As much as you respect Maze, you still see her as someone to give orders to, and you expect that they will be followed. She's your friend, perhaps, but not your partner. The rest of humanity? You treat us like toys or pets. Objects to amuse you for a while, but not equals.

"Chloe doesn't react to you the way the rest of us do. When she tells you her thoughts, it's because she wants you to know, not because she was forced to tell you. When she kissed you all those months ago, it was because she _wanted_ to kiss you. Not because of your pheromones or whatever it is that attracts us to you. You had to work to earn her trust and her friendship. As she had to work to earn your trust and your friendship. To become true partners.

"And it doesn't make sense to me to make you go through all that trouble for a few months or years of love and friendship. I think maybe God thinks it's time you passed the mantle of being the Devil onto another sibling. And I think that when it is Chloe's time to go, you will be by her side as she enters the Silver City."

That was a lot to think about. Not that I agreed with any of it, but…. It was at least worth pondering. Linda waited for a few minutes while I looked out over the ocean before leaving me to my thoughts.

My thoughts weren't particularly pleasant. If Linda was correct, that Chloe was put here so I could have a partner, then I really had messed up. Above and beyond the debacle with Pierce even. An entire year wasted trying to deny my feelings for this woman out of hatred for my Father.

* * *

Author's Note:

Thank you all so much for reading my stories! And your words of encouragement. It really means a lot to me.

I started writing this chapter from Chloe's perspective, and it came out all wrong. So I started over from Lucifer's POV, and it just came together. Somewhere around the 8 thousand word mark, I realized my story was off track again. I like the ideas I'm running with, but not from Lucifer. So chapter 3 is in the works, and I return to Chloe's POV. I

Verge of Chaos - I still can't remember the Nephilim being mentioned; I'm rewatching the series (for the 8th? 10th? time) and listening for it. However, as (hopefully) you will see, I did write my way out of that potential plot hole.

Happy reading. And #SaveLucifer


	3. Chapter 3

As much as I disliked playing hostess, it was also a bit of a blessing. I listened to my colleagues saying how sorry they were about Charlotte and then waited through the obvious pause as they debated whether or not to commiserate with me about Marcus or ask if I knew he was a crime boss while we were dating and was that the reason I broke off the engagement. In the end, manners won, and they simply shoved the dish of the moment into my hands, and went off to sympathize with Elliot and Dan. Both Charlotte's and Marcus' estate attorneys stopped by to discuss wills with Dan, Elliot and myself.

Being in charge of answering the door, keeping an eye on the kids, and making sure there was enough food and drink set out for the hungry mourners kept me too busy to think.

Almost.

There was an awful lot to think about. And far too much idle time.

Lucifer was the Devil, a fallen angel. His devil face and body were as gruesome as his human body and wings were heavenly. Amenadiel was an angel. God was real. Apparently there was also a real Goddess who took over a human body for a few months. Heaven and Hell were real places. Biblical events actually happened. And oddly enough, these thoughts were the easiest to handle.

God created me, specifically designed me to be immune to Lucifer's abilities. That one was taking a while. Why me? I don't think I'd ever understand it.

And I'd fallen in love with a fallen angel. And, somehow, he loved me too. I could understand how a human Lucifer could fall in love with another human…. I didn't understand how an angel could fall in love with a human. Maybe love just transcends species?

And then there was this whole immortality thing. For all of his childlike behaviors, he was really old. So dating me was an extreme version of robbing the cradle. And, if we managed to stay together that long, what was going to happen in 20 or 30 years when I aged and grew wrinkled? Would he remain he same? Was he able to "grow old" with me? Would he even want to?

And what was going to happen with his current lovers? Would he give up his seemingly unlimited supply of sexual partners and settle down with just me? Was he expecting me to be OK with his lovers on the side?

And then there was the whole Uriel thing I had overheard him and Linda mention. Plus any other nasty little surprises he was hiding. How many people had he killed over the centuries? Not that I was one to talk, really., but…. How many?

I didn't even have my friends around to distract me from these thoughts for the last few hours. Ella had left around ten to go to work. Maze had disappeared shortly after that. Linda left closer to two, for an appointment she couldn't miss. And Lucifer had escaped into his room even before Ella left, and had yet to reappear. He didn't even come down for lunch.

Seeing as how it was now nearing six o'clock, I decided to bring him dinner and escape the mourning myself. I smooshed food onto plates and microwaved them. I packed a tote with a bottle of wine, the leftovers from last night's desserts, some flatware, napkins, and two precariously balanced wine glasses. I slung that over my arm, and grabbed the dishes I had warmed up and headed upstairs.

Lucifer's bedroom suite took up the entire 3rd floor. Given that the staircase came up into the middle of the room and the support columns that lined up with the 2nd floor walls, I guessed this room had once been a master bedroom and a lounge area. And Lucifer removed the interior walls to make this one huge space. His bedroom furniture, and I assume dressing room and bath, were on one side of the stairs, over the other guest room, while his piano took center stage on the other side, over my guest room. The wall overlooking the ocean was floor to ceiling glass panels with French doors leading to a glass railed deck. Yet another similarity between his homes.

He was lying flat on one of the chaise lounges outside and looked up and over his shoulder at me when I swung his legs around to make room for me. "I brought you dinner, since you didn't come down for lunch. Leftovers from last night?" I hefted the plate in one hand, "or lasagna from today?" and shook the plate in the other. He chose the spaghetti, and I smiled. "Thought you'd pick that one. I am warning you, though…. I am going to steal some."

"Steal away. Whatever I have is yours." He poured the wine while I set flatware on our dishes and we settled in to eat. Yes, I did eat almost half of his spaghetti, but he ate more than half of my lasagna, so…

The chaise was low to the ground, which made it quite awkward to sit sideways on it and maintain a flat lap for the dishes to rest on. The glass railing kept most of the ocean breeze away, but every once in a while, a wisp tried and failed to ruffle his sculpted locks but succeeded in blowing tendrils of my hair into our faces and food. He was a good sport about it, simply brushing my hair away, but I was getting annoyed. And since I hadn't been able to find my hair elastic this morning, I ended up pulling my hair over my left shoulder, twisting it tightly, and held on with a white knuckled grip that had Lucifer wincing slightly every time he looked at my hand. For an angel, his mind was in the gutter an awful lot….

"What's with you and doors?" I figured I'd start the conversation with something innocuous. Leave the heavy bits for after we ate.

"You'd hate doors and enclosed spaces, too, if you were forced to live in Hell for eons. The corridors are endlessly long. Jagged, narrow canyons, sometimes so narrow, I had to walk sideways. With thousands upon thousands of doors in the walls. Behind each door, another dammed soul tortures itself in an endless Hell loop. And most of the doors are unlocked, so those damned can walk out of their own personal Hell anytime they like. They don't, though."

"And the locked doors?"

"Those are to restrain the truly despicable. The monsters. Psychopaths, sociopaths, dictators, and the like." He paused. "Mum." Another pause. "People who enjoyed doing evil. Those are the souls my demons torture." He sounded quite proud. "My demons are incredibly imaginative when it comes to torture."

"Like Maze?"

"Mazikeen is truly amazing. I'd suggest you see her in action, but I don't think you'd enjoy it. Hell's best torturer. It's part of the reason I brought her up here. I needed some information, and my suspect wasn't… cooperating with me. She had him squealing like a pig in minutes. And all she did was have sex with him." Oh, yes. This was definitely a proud daddy moment. Eew.

Topic change. I was not going to discuss Maze's sex life. Or her torturing skills. I had had enough glimpses of her abilities over the year we'd been living together. And then there was her behavior over the last few months. Her initial willingness to kill Amenadiel. I was sure there was going to be one Hell of an explanation for it all, but for right now, I preferred to leave her out of the conversation. "The estate attorneys stopped by. Apparently if your estate is large enough, they come to you instead of you going to them. Did you know Charlotte was a millionaire?"

"I assumed so, based on her client list."

"She changed her will last month and left Dan a huge pile of money. And her apartment. And Pierce had his will written the day after we got engaged. He left me everything. Hundreds of thousands of dollars." I shook my head in amazement. "Plus the house, which is paid for."

"Is that all? I would have thought he'd have millions stashed away in some safe haven by now. In one of the Caribbean islands or a Swiss bank or something." I raised my eye brows at him. "Yes, Detective, I have money in banks all over the world. I've been saving and investing since before the concept of money was invented. And I have investment bankers to make sure it's invested properly, and the appropriate taxes paid. It's mostly legal. I don't invest in blood diamonds or human trafficking. Or arms running."

"Mostly legal?" I noticed he left out drugs from his list of investments.

"There are some places where you don't pay taxes, you pay bribes. That's just how business gets done. So my people ensure that everybody who needs to be bribed is taken care of, and all is well."

Yeah, he still left off drugs. "Well, I don't want his money."

"I'll have one of my attorneys call you in a few days. She can discuss your best options. Because if you don't take the money, it goes to the State, which really does no one any good. It would be better to set up a trust for Trixie or donate the money to the police scholarship fund. Although, come to think of it, you don't need to set up a trust for Trixie; I made one for her a few months ago."

"You did what?" I had no idea it was possible to harshly whisper a screech.

"I set up a trust for Trixie. She'll have access to the principal to pay for her college education, bachelors though PhD or even medical school if she wants. And once she turns 18, she has access to the interest for any purpose. And full access to the trust once she turns 30."

I put our empty dishes on the floor under my chair, mentally preparing myself for an argument. "I can't believe you did that without asking me. She's not your child, Lucifer. That's not your responsibility."

"I don't understand why you're upset. It's only money. It's not like I have anything better to spend it on."

Upset? No I wasn't 'upset'. How dare he! A sharp gust of wind shoved a hank of hair into my face. "How much," I mumbled through the hair. "Did you," I spat out a large tendril, "Give her," as I clawed the last few strands from my lips and eyelashes. He was trying not to laugh. It's really hard trying to be dignified and justifyingly outraged when you look like you're imitating Cousin It.

"Enough." He was hedging. Somehow I don't think he was budgeting for community college. How much did he put in that trust? A million?

"You need to undo that trust."

"I can't, Detective. It's called an irrevocable trust for a reason."

I had no idea if irrevocable trusts really were or not, but it sounded likely. "Don't consider this conversation over, Lucifer. You are going to find a way to undo that trust."

He twisted his head and leered at me. "There are far more fun things I'd rather be undoing for you than trusts."

That's my Lucifer: sexual innuendo to the rescue. A poor one at that; it didn't even deserve an eye roll. Or a response. I turned to sit cross legged on the chaise facing him, making sure to keep my dress tucked under me against the ocean breeze. And the eyes of an oversexed devil who was trying very hard, unsuccessfully, to not appear as if he was hoping for a glimpse of my panties.

Time for an unwanted, but necessary, conversation. "Who is Uriel?"

He flinched. "You're all over the place today. Which is to be expected given what happened yesterday. Although, I must admit, I did expect that you'd be more curious about the Divine…. Heaven? Hell? You sure you don't want to talk about them?"

"Stop stalling, Lucifer."

"Where did you hear that name?"

"I followed Linda up here earlier and I heard you two talking. Then I realized it was a therapy session, so I left. But not before you mentioned Uriel."

"What did you hear?"

"Enough for me to know if you're going to lie to me."

"I never lie, Detective."

"Fine, abridge the truth then."

He fiddled with the chaise for a bit, moving the back so that it was upright. And fidgeted to get into a comfortable position. If he was waiting for me to forget the subject, he was going to be disappointed. He eventually stopped so that he was facing me with one long leg stretched out alongside the chair and the other bent across it. "Very well, then. Uriel was one of my brothers. You know how my gift is to bring out hidden desires? Well, Uriel's was to see patterns. You know, a tiger sneezes in Asia and a hurricane develops over the Atlantic? He knew which tiger to tickle. Well, he determined that Mum going back to either Heaven or Hell would be a disaster for everyone in the Silver City. He stole our sister Azrael's blade. Remember the dagger that kept getting passed around at the yoga studio last year?" I nodded. "It kills humans, but that's all it does to them. It destroys Celestials. Poof! Gone from any existence."

"He wanted to kill your Mom?" Angels could be evil enough to want to commit matricide? Who knew?

"Yes. He knew I wasn't going to be inclined to help him, so he decided to, ah… encourage me. He set events into motion that led to that dog running into the street and you getting into the car accident. He thought that given the choice between you dead or Mum dead, I would choose to save you. I refused, of course, to make that choice. We fought, and then he said that he was going to take both of you, so I… I stabbed him."

"With Azimov's blade."

"Azrael's, yes."

"Oh, Lucifer…. When was this?"

"Right before the zombie wedding."

"This was what you refused to tell me? When you were trying to commit suicide by sniper?" Now it was his turn to nod. "You could have told me the normal part of it. I would have understood 'my brother just died, and I feel guilty'."

"I had just destroyed my own brother to spare the life of a human; I wasn't exactly in a 'normal' state of mind. I'm a punisher, yes. But not a murderer. Or at least I hadn't been. And now I've killed twice just since I've met you." He stared at his hands, as if he could see invisible blood staining them.

"'Out, damned spot!' hmm?" I reached over to hold his hand. "Lady Macbeth had it right, didn't she. I've killed, too, where I wished there had been another way. Some will haunt me for the rest of my life. Did I make the right decision. Was there a less lethal way I could have acted. Could I have talked the suspect down. But at the end of the day, I have to accept that what I did was the best choice I had in that moment. And that's what I have to live with."

He nodded and sighed. "I still wish there had been another option. That he was willing to wait to see that I made the right choice in the end. Or for Dad to intervene and stop us both."

This reminded me of something he said yesterday. Last night? My memory wasn't working too well yesterday; the morning's events are still pretty fuzzy... And I'm pretty sure that at more than one point last night I thought Charlotte had died the previous night instead of two nights before. They say trauma affects memories... "Why didn't you just use your sword?"

"What?"

"Your sword." I mimed holding a sword and swung it at his head. Although, with my two handed grip, I'm sure it looked more like I was swinging a lightsaber or a baseball bat than a sword. "You cut a hole and invented a new universe with it? Why didn't you just do that when Uriel showed up?"

"Oh, well, because I didn't have it until I got to the Pier." OK, now I was really confused. Was there a sword hiding at the Santa Monica Pier? "I was given the sword a very long time ago. And then Dad took it away before… um, before I was sent to Hell. I thought He destroyed it, but apparently He broke it into three pieces. The largest piece became Azrael's blade. Which I, ah, borrowed after the yoga studio attack." So that's what happened; I'm pretty sure some crime scene tech was written up for losing that knife…. "I couldn't allow for it to remain in human hands; it, ah, amplifies human feelings of mild disappointment or anger into a murderous rage. The second piece was God Johnson's belt buckle. Which I also borrowed."

"It's not borrowing if you don't intend to return it."

"Yes, well. Humans shouldn't have access to Divine objects; it does things to them."

"Like make them murder innocent people or think they're God?"

"Exactly."

"And the third piece?"

"We found this ancient book that claimed Dad gave the third piece to His favorite son. Amenadiel thought maybe it was my ring, since just about everyone in the Silver City thought I had been Dad's favorite. Well, up until He kicked me out, that is.

"It turned out to be Amenadiel's pendant, though. So Amenadiel wasn't inclined to give that to me just so I could help Mum stir things up back home. You think I'm egotistical? Peanuts compared to my heavenly brother finding out he is our Father's favorite son."

"Wait… didn't we have this conversation already?"

"The abridged version, yes."

"But you did get it."

"After groveling and begging for your life. Amenadiel had stored the pendant on Daniel for safe keeping. And Daniel was at the Pier with you. Hence no sword until I took the pendant from Daniel and put it all together."

"My life?" How was I involved in this?

"Mum was leaking Divine light, remember? And She had you hostage on the Pier. I told you that, remember?"

"No….," I said shaking my head. "I was arresting her for murder."

"No. You _thought_ you were arresting Her. The reality was that Her human body could no longer contain Her Divine light. She could have melted half the city, maybe half the planet, including you. She allowed you to find Her because She knew that I would do almost anything to protect you. Including slicing open the gates of Heaven so She could return home."

"But you sent her to another universe instead."

He nodded. "No going backwards, Detective."

"So…." I started, not really sure how to word my question. So I just blurted it out. "How powerful are you? Is creating new universes an everyday type of thing? Or do you need to recharge?"

And to my dismay, he started laughing. "No, I'm not a battery operated toy. I just put the sword back together, it lit on fire, and I…. I guess I told it what I wanted it to do. And it did it."

"Fire?" I sounded like an idiot. How does a sword catch on fire?

"It is called the Flaming Sword that guarded the Garden of Eden. Didn't you read your Bible as a child?"

"Ah, no. No Sunday school for me."

"Interesting." He sounded genuinely excited. "Before my fall, I was known as the Light Bearer. The sword was a part of who I was. In fact, that's part of how I chose my name."

"You were named after a flaming sword," I deadpanned. That's kind of weird.

"No. The Light Bearer. In Latin, the word for light is 'lux', hence the name of my club."

"Really? I thought it was an abbreviation for luxury…."

He scowled. "No." And then the giddy look came back, "The word 'lucifer' comes from lux, light, and 'ferr' meaning bearing. It literally translates to 'light bearing'. But the word 'lucifer' was also a name for the planet Venus which is also known as… the morning star."

"So you call yourself Light Bearer Light Bearer?" Now it was my turn to laugh. And his to look smug. "How long have you waited for someone to figure that out?"

"Far too long, Detective."

"What was your name? Back when the dinosaurs roamed the earth, I mean."

"I suppose if I don't tell you, you'll go look it up in a Bible, won't you."

"Nah. Google is faster."

He snorted. "Only you, Detective, would go searching for God on the internet.

"Samael. I was called Samael before I fell," he said quietly. "But that name has been perverted. From the Light Bearer to God's Poison. God's Blindness." I could almost taste the bitterness in his voice.

"Samael." I tested the word out. "It doesn't suit you. It's too… solemn. Lucifer just rolls off the tongue… Loose-ih-ferrrrr. Like it's the name of a surfing thing. Hang Lucifer like a hang ten, maybe. Or an ecstasy type of drug." I affected the tone of a stoned person. "'Hey, man. You got any Lucifers on you?' Or maybe a position in the Kama Sutra? It just sounds like a good time. I suppose that's why you use it here?"

"The Kama Sutra, eh?" He was grinning like a kid in an all you can eat candy store. "That was a fun time, doing the research for that book….." And then he sobered a bit. "I have lots of names given to me over the years by various cultures. Lucifer is the name I choose for myself."

And that explained a lot. The world saw him as Satan, the Devil, evil incarnate. And he saw himself as the Light Bringer. Or he wanted to see himself as the Light Bringer. The angel he had been before his fall from Grace. Someone who shone his light on evil, maybe. Or someone to bring his light into the darkness for all to see. A cosmic joke on those who blamed their misdeeds on a Devil hiding in the shadows.

For all his protestations that he hated his Dad, I think maybe he just wanted to be forgiven. And loved. And maybe welcomed home to his Silver City. Wasn't that part of a prayer? And forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us? Men had slandered his name for millennia, claimed their dark deeds were at his bidding, and he still hadn't given up hope of being seen for who and what he really was. Which is a forgiveness of a sort, right?

Why else choose the name Lucifer? Why else choose to use the one word that directly correlated to who he had been before his fall?

I realized I had been silent for too long, engrossed in my thoughts. "What about Sammy?" My attempt to bring some levity fell flat as he gave me a dark look at that nickname. "Apparently not. Sammy's the guy you grab a beer with after a slow pitch softball game on a lazy Sunday afternoon. And I can't picture you playing softball."

"I don't slow pitch anything. And I prefer to play with soft balls in a bed, not on a field."

"I was wondering when that was going to come up," I smiled and bumped his shoulder with mine. "Only two other innuendos today; I was beginning to wonder if you were sick."

"I've been up most of the day, Detective. I'm up now, in fact." He smirked at me. "I can show you if you'd like…." He put his hands to his belt buckle, and I squeaked. Like a mouse. How adult. "Later, then? Speaking of which, should I go down and start freezing Hell? Is tonight good? Or do I need to wait a day?"

"Freeze Hell? What?" What was he talking about? Freezing Hell? "Oh, yeah. I said I'd sleep with you when Hell froze over." I started laughing, and my bruise reminded me it was still there. "I can arrange that," I said in my best, but truly atrocious, attempt at an English accent.

"Just say the word, and it's done."

"Don't make me laugh anymore, OK?" I rubbed my collarbone. "It's still a bit sore…"

I swallowed, audibly, against a sudden rush of emotion. A fraction of an inch higher…. If I hadn't put the vest on…. We wouldn't be sitting here…. I never wore it except in planned raids, but that morning, a little voice inside my head whispered 'put it on'. Looking at the Devil's eyes locked onto the fingers caressing my collarbone, I wondered if that voice had been real…. Angelic. "Do you… I never wear my vest. But I saw it while I was dressing, and had this thought that I should wear it. I didn't even think we'd be in a shootout, and…. Do you think…." I didn't know how to put it into words.

"Do I think it was Divine intervention? Is that what you're asking? I don't know, Detective. Most of my siblings are too uninterested in humans in general, never mind you in particular, to interfere. My Dad might have ordered one of them to whisper in your ear…. I highly doubt it. Unless…."

"Unless what?"

"Unless, the bargain is still ongoing…."

I stifled my annoyance. Tried, at least. "Stop being so cryptic. What bargain."

"When Malcolm shot me? I sort of made a bargain with Dad while I was dying. I offered Him me, or rather my obedience to His will, in exchange for your protection."

"You did what?" I was getting pretty good at that whisper-screech.

"You and Amenadiel are very much alike. Do you know that? Almost the same exact reaction…."

I ignored the non-sequitur, "I repeat. You. Did. What?"

"It made sense at the time. I was already dying. There was no need for you to die, too. I figured I might as well make the most of being consigned to Hell for the rest of eternity." At my blank look, he explained. "Malcolm killed my body; my soul would have survived, but souls are unable to leave Hell without a body to go to…. That's why Dad healed mine. In any case, He didn't want my obeisance; He wanted me to handle my Mother…. It's possible He's still protecting you…. I doubt it, but it is possible…."

He didn't seem too comfortable with that idea. I don't know if I would be in his shoes, either. I mean, if his Dad is still protecting me, then maybe the deal wasn't just to handle Mum. Maybe she was just a task. A way to prove his obedience….

He jutted his chin at my chest. "Show me?" I rolled my eyes at him. I've heard some cheesy pick up lines in my time; I expected something more sophisticated from a ladies' man than 'show me your bruise.' "I want to see that you're healing. Since you didn't get checked out at the hospital. The dress's neckline is too high to see anything." I just looked at him for a moment, to make sure he was serious and not just trying to get me naked. Then I carefully turned around on the chaise, making sure I didn't bare anything in the process, and slid my hair over my shoulder leaving the zipper exposed.

He slid up the chaise, so close that I could feel his warm breaths on the back of my neck stirring the little hairs there. He slowly slid the pull tab down a few inches, a knuckle barely brushing my skin. Low enough to loosen the neckline, but high enough that the bodice stayed in place. Still, the lower the zipper went, the faster my heart beat. I've shown more cleavage at work than I was about to, but…. There was just something incredibly intimate about this that was setting my nerves aflame. And his, too; I could hear our both of our breathing getting increasingly ragged and heavy as each fraction of an inch of skin was exposed. "Show me," he whispered before he placed a feather light kiss where my neck met my shoulder, setting off goosebumps all over my body. "Please," as he drew my hair back and skimmed the other side of my neck with his lips. This was torture. Heaven. Pure, exquisite, agony. And yet, I couldn't do it; frozen in place, I couldn't turn back to face him…. He slid off the lounge and knelt in front of me. And deliberately placed his hands on the cushion, one on either side of my knees. His eyes found and held mine. I could willingly drown in those eyes, so soft and warm. "Show me, Chloe. Please." My hand drifted up almost of its own accord, and gently tugged the dress down.

He dropped his gaze to the quarter sized bruise. The center was still a dark purple, but the edges had started to fade to a rancid green-yellow color. In other words healing quite nicely.

He slid his gaze upwards, to lock on my lips for a few rapid heartbeats, then upwards to my eyes. My body was aching. _Touch me. Kiss me._ I opened my mouth, but the words just wouldn't come out. He tried to lighten the mood by joking, "There's only one bullet that belongs on your breasts." But I didn't laugh; I gently pushed him backwards onto his heels, and straddled his lap. My eyes opened just a little bit wider as I pressed against him and realized that, no, he wasn't joking earlier when he said that he was _up_. My hands held onto his shoulders for balance and his fluttered to rest on my hips. "Chloe…" he whispered.

"Yes…."

One hand smoothed its way up my back, tangled in the hair at my nape, bringing me down for a searing kiss. While the other snaked around my waist, and pulled our hips even tighter together. Our hands began roving, exploring, finding what made the other gasp or moan in pleasure. Whispered words of encouragement, of need and desire mingled with drugging kisses. Until the pain of bare knees on grit and concrete overwhelmed the pleasure. "I want this, I do, but not like this. My knees are killing me," I panted, sitting back on the chaise and scrubbing at the dirt ground into my skin. I struggled to regain control of my breathing.

"Mine hurt, too, Detective, but you don't hear me complaining." That might technically not be a complaint, but I did hear a bit of a whine.

I smiled, and shook my head. "I doubt you even noticed. You've got pants to protect you." I flipped my hands over my shoulders to zip the dress back up, the zipper noticeably lower than it had been a few minutes earlier, hiding the bruise once again.

He stood up, brushing bits of sand and dirt from his legs. "Trousers," he corrected me. "My trousers were protecting my knees. My _pants_ are damned uncomfortable; I've got rather a sticky wicket at the moment."

"Trousers, then," I agreed. I had no idea what a 'sticky wicket' actually was, but since he used the phrase in relation to his boxers, I assumed that he was making yet another innuendo, which I fully intended to ignore.

"And, for your information, I'm noticing it now." He gave me a stern look. "I am much older than you, so I feel it more intensely than you do."

"What am I going to do with you," I teased.

"Hopefully, you're going to _do me_ soon, and put us both out of our misery." That earned him a half laugh/half groan, an eye roll, _and_ a head shake. "I could, you know, pop on over to Lux," he flapped his hands like a kid pretending to be a bird, "grab a condom box or four…. Won't take but a minute or two."

"At the rate we're going, it won't take either of us but a minute or two," I muttered.

"You wound me!" he cried. "I would never be so crass as to last only a minute." Then he winked. "Well, not after the first time anyway. And that's your fault. If you'd slept with me when I first suggested it, we would be much happier today."

"'Wound you?' 'Crass?' What century are we in?" I teased. And then I thought about what he had just said. "Wait, you honestly think that if we'd slept together two years ago that we'd still be working together? You think you would have treated me differently than every other lover you've ever had?"

"Maybe. Maybe not. You do challenge me in a way none of my lovers ever have." He grinned. "How about we put it to a test starting tonight and see where we are in two years…."

Two years. I was elated for a moment. Two years meant he was thinking we'd have a future together? And then all my doubts and fears from earlier came out crashing down on me. I could feel myself cringing, arms clasped around my waist.

"Detective? What's wrong?" He sounded hurt. "If you don't want to…. You know I would never force you..."

"It's not that. It's just… Brittany."

"Which one? And what does she have to do with…? Oh…." There was a very pregnant pause as he considered. "Brittany doesn't mean just Brittany. You mean all of them." He looked down at me, while I looked past him at the blue sky just starting to turn purple and pink from the setting sun. I could feel the tears building up in my eyes. Oh, God, this hurt. Sucker-punch to the gut, indeed. I knuckled away the first tear. "Chloe, I'm sorry," he whispered. "Come here," and he pulled my unresisting body up and into his arms. "I'm so sorry," he murmured into my hair. "I can't make my past go away."

"It's not your past that concerns me," I mumbled into his shirt.

"Oh."

"I know your views on fidelity. I… I…." Is there a nice way to say 'I don't want you sleeping around on me'? I settled for "I don't think I'd be good at sharing you."

"It would be nice, I suppose, if I could reassure you that I had tried and succeeded at being in a monogamous relationship outside of my two week long marriage." He sighed heavily. "I've never _wanted_ to be monogamous. Not even _during_ my marriage, but our vows did say 'forsaking all others'. I'm used to giving in to temptation, not resisting it. I _can_ control myself, though, Detective. I just generally choose not to…."

"And that's another thing." I pushed out of his embrace, suddenly furious. "You married Candy. A stri-exotic dancer you knew for like one night. But you've never even _thought_ about marrying me? I had this rock the size of Jupiter on my finger for weeks and you didn't _even once_ think, 'hey that should have been mine'?"

My anger sparked his. "Well you've certainly bloody ensured that I'm thinking about it now, haven't you! And for your information, Candy and I only had a Dad damned business arrangement! We didn't even have sex!" He hissed loudly. "She's a singer and a dancer, yes, but she keeps her clothes on; she needed money to pay off a loan for her club. And I needed help with my Mum; she wasn't telling me something I needed to know about why she wanted to go back to the Silver City. So we got married because it's easier to give money to your wife than a stranger. And Mum was completely knocked off balance because she thought that you and I were in love with each other!" His flashing brown eyes darted away from me, and his anger visibly deflated like a balloon. "Oh bloody Hell."

I turned around to see Dan in the doorway, hand upraised and poised to knock. "Sorry? I was just going to tell you that Elliot and his kids have left and did you mind if Trixie came home with me?"

I could feel my face burning from a blush. "Yeah, sure," I mumbled. "Do you think you could sort of just forget that whole thing you just heard?"

"Not on your life…. And Chloe? Just as an FYI? I lost the betting pool…. I was down for you jilting Pierce at the altar."

"There was an office pool about my marriage?" I was _never_ going to be able to show my face at the precinct again.

"Yeah, Ella was pretty much the only one who thought you two were going to last more than a month or two. Everyone knows you and Lucifer are crazy for each other. Especially after you started wearing his necklace." I could feel my eyes starting to bug out of my head. And Lucifer made a strangled noise behind me. "Guys don't buy jewelry for their 'friends'; everyone knows that. A guy gives a girl jewelry, it's like he's marking his territory or something. And the girl wearing it kinda means she's OK with being seen as his." I was sputtering incoherently at his point. But I was so outraged, I couldn't even form words in my head. "And, come on, Chlo…. We were married for how long? You think I can't tell when my ex-wife is in love versus being infatuated?"

"Well, you could have clued me in, Daniel." Lucifer muttered.

"And miss seeing you squirm every time Chloe and Pierce got all googly-eyed? Not on your life. Watching you torture yourself is one of the highlights of my days."

I thought I heard, "Maybe on your life, then," from the peanut gallery behind me.

Apparently Dan didn't hear it. "Well, I'll be going then. Thanks for letting us hang here for the day. I know it must have been a huge imposition, so…. Really appreciate it, man. Oh, and, uh, Lucifer? Take good care of Chloe? 'Cause we both know she'll shoot you if you don't." And with that my ex-husband did an about-face and left.

I was mortified. I pressed my hands to my burning cheeks, hoping to cool them down, to no avail. I knelt down and grabbed the dirty dishes, "I'm just going to, um…, yeah." I mentally gave myself a huge pat on the back for that absolutely brilliant bout of coherence as I walked down to the main floor. Surprisingly, it was pretty clean. There were no spills anywhere, and only two cups hiding in corners. And most of the food was gone from the refrigerator. The dishwasher was running and the sink was empty of dirty dishes. I rinsed off our dishes and left them in the sink to be put in the dishwasher later.

And then I went to take a shower. Someone had taken the pile of clothes off the bed and put them away in the closet. I looked in vain for the clothes I wore last night, a pair of sweats or PJs or even an overlarge T-shirt to relax in. The closest I found to a night suit was a baby doll set that left absolutely nothing to the imagination and looked to be extremely itchy and uncomfortable to boot. Thankfully, when I left the shower and re-entered the dressing room, there was another set of Lucifer's T-shirt and shorts waiting for me on a shelf.

He was upstairs playing the piano; the music trickled down and through the open sliders. I didn't recognize the fast paced and energetic tune. I sat in the easy chair and simply enjoyed while I ran a comb through my damp hair. This was a treat as he rarely played just for me. Not that he was playing for me, now…. I'd seen him often enough in his club to picture him in my mind. Back ramrod straight, just slightly bent at the waist. Maybe swaying a bit. Head tilted just a little. Eyes almost closed if he was playing for himself, wide open and scanning the club for his next overnight guests if he was playing for an audience. Forearms perfectly parallel with the floor, fingers and palms arched just so. Fingertips caressing the ebony and ivory keys. Lips slightly parted as if preparing for a kiss. Black as night suit, crisp white shirt, black hair shining in the spotlight. The yellow/brown bulbs creating a golden aura surrounding him.

I shifted in my chair, feeling slightly, uncomfortably, aroused. My insides felt like they were turning to goo or something while my skin felt tighter and more sensitive. At just thinking of what he looked like. How much better, and worse, it would be to simply walk upstairs and be one of his Brittanies for the night. To take what I want from him, give what he wants to him, and ignore all my doubts and fears.

This relationship would be so much easier if he was human. I would know how this goes. We'd date for a while and then one day we'd realize that half of my closet was filled with his clothes, and my few beauty products were mixed in among his in his bathroom, and Trixie would stop yelling 'Lucifer!' every time she saw him at the breakfast table. If things were still going well in a year or so, we'd start talking about moving in together, maybe talk about getting married, having a baby together. I'd commiserate with him when he found his first gray hair. Ask him to help me pick out my first pair of bifocals. Watch him beam with pride when Trixie graduated from high school and college. Mediate the argument with Dan about who got to dance the first father-daughter dance at her wedding. Grow old with him.

But Lucifer wasn't human.

I knew he loved me. But I supposed that he had no idea how to handle it as, other than Maze and Linda, every other 'relationship' in his life had either been completely sexual or familial. With no sense of personal commitment in any of them.

I had lived through the teenaged angst of crushing on boys who didn't know I existed, or worse, knew I liked them and didn't return my feelings. I'd crushed on celebrities. Had my heart bruised a few times. And, of course, I'd loved Dan; he still held a piece of my heart. I'd tried to love Marcus. But Lucifer had apparently never gone through any of this.

 _Angels don't love, but I do_ I heard him say in my mind _._ OK, so I was paraphrasing a bit. His Mum, at least as she had been in the guise of Charlotte Richards, wasn't exactly the warm and fuzzy type; I doubt she hugged him close as a baby and crooned lullabies. (Were angels ever babies?) I also couldn't picture her cuddling up with him for nighty-nights and doing whatever the angel equivalent of a bedtime story was. And Lucifer, for all that he evaded casual contact whenever possible, I think he loved to be touched. Craved it.

I don't think there was any love between him and Amenadiel, either. They seemed to be in that stage of brotherhood where they slightly more than simply tolerated each other, but would quite happily try to put their fist through the other's face should the occasion warrant it.

I think he did love Maze, but in the same way one would love a venomous snake: carefully and from a distance. Because if you piss off the snake, it _will_ try to kill you. Plus they had that employer-employee, former lover and the you-wanted-to-kill-my-brother thing to work out.

It was about then that I realized the music had stopped. I got up to put the comb back in the bathroom, and headed upstairs.

* * *

Author's Note.

I had this section mostly written weeks ago. But I was trying to finish my story in this chapter. I've plotted out how to end it at least 4 different ways, and not really liked any of them. So there will be another chapter to wrap things up.

As always, thank you for reading. Accolades and critiques are welcomed.


	4. Chapter 4

He wasn't in his bedroom, but as I stood outside his dressing room doorway, I could hear the shower going. I meandered over to the piano, or more specifically, to the decanter and snifters sitting atop the piano. I wasn't a huge fan of brandy, but this stuff didn't taste half bad. And it did its job: by the time Lucifer emerged from his dressing room, I was feeling quite… fine… Seriously buzzed, yes, but not completely drunk. Let's just say I was still sober enough to take one look at him with his wet hair slicked back, and his silk dressing gown partially glued to his still damp skin to wonder about the appropriateness of knocking back the equivalent of a couple of shots of brandy in less than five minutes. And then as the belt knot slipped a bit and the gown parted to show a lovely vee of nicely defined pectoral and abdominal muscles, I decided I really didn't care that I'd drank the brandy a bit too quickly. He walked across the room, and I began to reconsider how drunk I was because, good Lord, even his hairy knees were beautiful.

Lucifer chuckled, and took the empty snifter from my fingers. "How much did you drink, Detective? My knees? Really?" I could feel a blush rising. I still cannot believe I said that out loud. He poured us both a drink and the belt knot undid itself just a little bit more revealing more of that luscious looking skin and red silk boxers. "My eyes are up here, Detective." He sounded offended, but when I dragged my gaze to his face, he was grinning, obviously enjoying my ogling.

"Daniel's acting skills have improved; I was quite sure he wanted to rip my head off this morning at the thought of us sleeping together. And this afternoon, he just about gave us his blessing." Lucifer sat on the loveseat next to me, handed me my snifter, and we wiggled a bit until we were facing each other. "What Daniel said earlier… about the necklace?" I nodded. "That wasn't my intention. To 'mark my territory'. Or maybe it was, subconsciously, because I really like seeing you wear it. And I did not enjoy seeing you take it off."

"It's OK, Lucifer. I liked wearing it, too."

"And when you took it off?"

"What's that German word? Schadenfreude? The first time anyway. The look on your face when I said Lucinda wasn't the kind to wear that was rather enjoyable. With Pierce, though…. As much as I enjoyed seeing you get all angsty over it, I was hurting, too. So…."

"You enjoy torturing me, don't you. You'd make a pretty good demon," he said, raising his snifter as if to toast me. Then he leaned forward and whispered, "My budding sadist." Then he relaxed back against the arm of the couch, and teased, "For the record, I prefer my torture to be physical in nature. 'Sticks and stones may break my bones, but whips and chains excite me.'"

Time to change the subject. He looked far too interested in the whips and chains part, and I was... am... not into torture of any kind, especially not S&M.

And I really didn't want to discuss the necklace. Now that I knew the whole truth, or perhaps just more of the truth, there was a much deeper meaning behind it. Maybe I was thinking too much, or maybe the alcohol was impacting my reasoning, but that bullet no longer simply represented a… how did he put it? A commemoration of me penetrating him? It was a symbol off his mortality. He could be hurt or killed, had been killed, because his father made him vulnerable around me. And he entrusted that symbol to me.

Scary.

I swirled the amber liquid in my glass just like the professional tasters did. But without their appreciation for the aroma softly scenting the night air or the way the waves first clung to the sides of the bowl and then drained down. "I don't remember seeing this earlier; where did you hide it?" I had gone through almost every cupboard in the kitchen looking for utensils, dishes, and cookware earlier in the day. The decanter and these glasses had not been there.

"When you went to shower, I popped over to Lux to talk to my staff, make sure everything is running smoothly. And to pick up some condoms." Really? He thought I was a sure thing, now, did he? He must have caught the flash of annoyance that crossed my face, because he quickly added, "I'd rather have them and not need them than want them and not have them. Be prepared as the Boy Scouts say. I grabbed the brandy and glasses from the penthouse and came back here."

I gave him a look of complete disbelief. There was simply no way he drove over to Lux and got back here in the ten minutes it took me to shower. He gave me a very condescending look in return. And flapped his free arm like a bird. "Angel wings, remember?" Yeah, I'd forgotten about that for a minute.

 _Angel. Devil._ I shifted slightly in my seat at the reminder. And, damn him and his insecurities! A second later his laughing, teasing, openness was gone. Completely shut down. He had the same look in his eyes that he had last night. "You still think I'm going to run…" I whispered. And I waited in vain for his denial. "I have never run from you, Lucifer," I reminded him. "Not when you were just an arrogant, playboy, club owner who would not leave me alone to do my job. Not when you weaseled your way into the department, into being my partner. Against my wishes, I might add. Not when we became friends. Not any of the times when you betrayed my trust, or when you broke my heart. Not even when I saw that you really are the Devil. I may have taken a step back from you at times, a step to the side, but I have never run. Never left." Unspoken, but clearly understood, was the conclusion to my tirade: _You're the one who runs, Lucifer._

He narrowed his eyes at me for the unspoken jab. "That's because you clearly haven't thought this through in its entirety, Detective." The nightmare inducing looks of the creature suddenly sitting inches away from me was just as jarring as it had been the previous times.

I forced myself to study the ruined face and body in front of me. Yes, he was hideous and scary to look at. But this was still my Lucifer. And while I very much enjoyed looking at his human form, I loved his mind, his wit. I loved him. Regardless of the form he occupied. My fingers traced a section of scarred tissue running down one cheek; it had not been there this morning. I stretched to slide my palm along his skull, now smooth where yesterday in the atrium it had been lined with ridges of scars. It took considerable effort to look into the flames of Hell burning in his eyes, but I did it. And kept my voice steady. "Are you still burning? Is that why you look different from this morning and yesterday?"

The Devil got up and walked over to one of the windows, gazing at the reflection found within. "It changes so fast? Just from this morning?" He sounded… fascinated, curious. He was turning this way and that, almost preening. "I don't usually take the opportunity to see my Devil face…." And then human Lucifer was back. "No, Detective, I'm not still burning. This seems to be yet another point in Amenadiel's favor." He held up his hand, silencing my next question.

"Amenadiel has a theory on how celestials are punished," he said to the window. "Or rewarded. In essence, he thinks we do it to ourselves. So his theory says my Devil face appearing all those eons ago was a reaction to me hating what I had become, hating who I was. And when I lost it a year ago, it was because I was finally feeling that maybe I wasn't as evil as everyone says I am."

"And you grew your wings back because you were feeling moderately angelic for finding an alternate path for your mother." I added.

"Yes, something like that," he agreed.

"But then why do you have the Devil face now?"

"Pierce." The name seemed to echo. "Not only did I kill a human, the one rule angels are forbidden to break, but I compounded my sin by invoking his guilt over Charlotte's death thereby ensuring that he would go to Hell and not Heaven."

"Lucifer…." I wished he would face me. Come back and sit with me. Give me some clue as to whether he needed his space and that's why he was so far away from me, or if he was waiting for me to go to him. I might have gone to him but I wasn't sure how steady I would be on my feet; the alcohol sloshing in my stomach echoed through my skull every time I moved my head.

"I _chose_ to break the one Commandment. I _chose_ to do evil. And that, Detective, is why you should run as far away from me as you can. Because as much as I would love to say I had no choice, I did have a choice. And every time I'm faced with a choice, I almost always choose the selfish one. Not the good one. And Chloe," I could hear the agony, the desire, in his voice as he whispered my name. "Chloe, you always choose to do good."

I had no idea how to respond to that. The flippant response was that I would have done the exact same thing in his shoes. But, since I'm being honest with myself, without seeing the Devil face, there is simply no way I would have believed, or even pretended to believe, Pierce was the biblical Cain, so it's far more likely that I would have simply arrested Pierce for Charlotte's murder and involvement in the Sinnerman crimes and let the justice system do its job. "The thing is," I said slowly, "I don't disagree with what you did. Or even why you did it." I remembered Pierce's threats before I shot him. "It was kill or be killed, Lucifer. Because if you had spared his life, he would have found a way to end yours. I think even your father would understand that…. And forgive you."

"My Father is not exactly the forgiving sort, Detective."

"And I'm not going to run, Angel." I was expecting a smart-aleck remark for calling him Angel, but nope. Silence reigned as we both retreated into our individual thoughts.

My over-intoxicated brain skittered from one topic to the next. Trixie, grocery list, my missing hair tie, my Mom, where my dirty clothes went off to, and so on. But when my thoughts skipped from questioning when, or if, I would wear the bullet necklace again to Amenadiel's theory on angelic punishment, I had an epiphany: "Lucifer, your dad didn't make you mortal around me."

Immediately, he spun around to focus on me. "Yes, he did."

I shook my head. "Nope." And popped the P sound. "Two words. Jimmy. Barnes."

"What's he got to do with it?"

"Everything. If your mortality was your dad's doing, then you would have been in the hospital with me. Or the morgue. He shot you, what, five times? Think about it. I've always been immune to your tricks. But you… you didn't get mortal until after we'd started becoming friends." Then another thought popped into my head. "Hey, wait. Show me your wings."

"Why?"

"Because feathers can't stop bullets." I could see he didn't believe me. But I knew I was right. Something happened in the time after I got out of the hospital and before I shot him that made him feel he should be vulnerable, human, around me. And so he was. Is. He did it to himself. But in the atrium, he needed to be able to protect me from Pierce's thug's, and so he made his wings act like a living shield.

He didn't show me his wings. And he didn't respond. He just turned back to the window.

 _Stiff from lying on my side on the couch reading, I stretched and cracked my neck as Lucifer gently slid Trixie's door closed. "The little demon did not want to go to sleep tonight," he chuckled. "Two Harry Potter chapters, and then we had to come up with a plan to deal with that mean kid at school. Speaking of which, you'll need to act all outraged for the principal when you see the footage Trixie is 'accidently' going to record on her phone tomorrow since apparently I'm not allowed to fly to the kid's house and put the fear of Me into him." He unbuttoned his waistcoat, draped it over the suit jacket lying on a chair._

 _I pushed the Clancy novel I had been reading off the couch and beckoned with one arm. "She's going to record that playground bully? Good. I won't need to feign outrage if even a quarter of the stuff she says he does gets filmed. Come here, my angel. You can tell me my bedtime story."_

" _Once upon a time," he began as he lay down next to me. "There was a Devil who fell in love with a human." He pushed and maneuvered until our legs were entwined and my head rested on his arm as he continued his tale. "This human was very cruel and purchased a very small, uncomfortable couch for her apartment. And no matter how much the Devil begged, she refused to purchase a proper couch. Or permit him to buy one for her. Seriously, my love, you need a better couch; microfiber makes my skin itch."_

" _That's a horrible bedtime story," I laughed ignoring his couch complaints. I happened to like my couch. "It doesn't make me want to go to sleep at all."_

" _Who said anything about sleeping?" he whispered against my lips. A short while later, our breathing heavy and ragged, he pulled back. "I've been thinking…. It's just… this apartment is your place, and the penthouse is my place." He entwined the fingers of our free hands together. "What do you think about getting our place?"_

The shock woke me up. And other than location and conversation, we were in pretty much the same position we had been in in the dream. With one glaring exception: dream Lucifer had worn clothes. I wiggled my top knee and was quite relieved to feel the caress of silky boxers along with his skin.

'A dream is a wish your heart makes,' according to Cinderella. What did she know? About dreams and wishes, I'm sure a lot. But the heart? Love? Starved for human companionship, her only friends mice and birds, of course she was going to fall head over heels for the first man to pay attention to her. That he was handsome and a prince was a bonus. If she'd done what I'd done and fallen in love with the Prince of Darkness, I think she would have been singing a different tune…. Literally.

"Stop thinking so loud," a low voice slurred.

"You can hear what I'm thinking?" OK, I was starting to freak a bit. If he could read minds, too….

"No, told you that long time ago" he sighed. "Just want you to go back to sleep…."

"Sorry," I whispered, and disentangled myself from him. I got up and went to use the bathroom. When I came back, he was spread-eagled in the bed, his skin a pale blur against dark sheets. I hesitated, debating if I should climb back in bed here or go downstairs to my room.

"Stay. Please." The entreaty was almost soundless. I could ignore it and in the morning we would both pretend he hadn't said it. Or I could do as we both wanted. I had barely settled back in the sheets when he spooned up behind me. With his arm heavy over the curve of my waist, we fell asleep.

" _Have fun!" I called to Trixie. She gave me a quick smile and raced off towards the climbing structure at the playground. Within less than a minute, she had scaled the thing, and was chattering happily with the other children. I made my way to a bench under a tree, and asked the man sitting on it if he minded if I sat with him. He was perhaps in his early to mid-fifties, wearing a white linen suit over a black t-shirt which I thought was a very smart looking outfit, but not exactly something I'd expect to see at a playground. I had learned the hard way that the combination of grass, dirt, and shredded tires do not work well with light colored fabrics._

" _No, no. Please sit," he insisted with a pleasant English accent._

" _Which one's yours?" I asked._

" _None of them. My children are grown. One of my sons has a sort of a step-daughter who plays here." The lightly lined face and curly light brown hair sprinkled with gray told me either he'd had children very young or he was older than he looked since all the children playing were about Trixie's age. He waved in the direction of the play area. "My son and I have a rather strained relationship, so I've never met my almost grand-daughter. But I do make sure to stop here when I visit this city so I can watch her play."_

" _I hear you on the strained relationship. My mom and I struggle to get along sometimes. What happened between you and your son, if you don't mind my asking?"_

" _I don't mind. Do you want the entire list? The latest of which I am accused? Or the latest of which I am actually guilty?"_

" _Oh, the guilty. I'm a cop, so that's kind of my thing," I laughed._

" _My son moved to Los Angeles a few years ago. There was a woman here that I knew of. By reputation only; she and I have never met in person. She's steady, strong minded, intelligent. I thought that they would do well together…. As friends at the very least. So I tinkered a bit here and there, used my limited influence to make sure they'd be introduced. And I was right. They hit it off as friends and eventually fell in love. But he found out about my meddling, and…. It's yet another thing for which he will not forgive."_

" _Oh, I'm so sorry!" And I was. "Being a parent is hard. I see the mistakes my mother and I made, and I try to not make them with my own daughter. So instead I make brand new ones," I commiserated. "But if all you did was make sure they'd be introduced, and they love each other, why is he so upset?"_

" _Would your husband be so forgiving if his father had set you up on the sly?"_

" _Oh, I'm not married anymore."_

" _Your boyfriend then."_

" _Ah! My boyfriend?" I could hear my voice cracking and felt my face heating up. "He's not really my boyfriend….. I mean, he is, sort of, but he…. It's complicated." Complicated was the understatement of the century. "But I see what you mean. My partner hasn't spoken with his father in years." Millennia. "He actually broke things off with me for a while when he found out his parents meddled with our lives to bring us together."_

" _I just want for them to be happy. They make each other whole…."_

" _I hear you on that one."_

 _We sat in silence for a few minutes watching the children playing. "I did think about introducing myself to the woman. You know, to see if she would intercede on my behalf."_

" _I think you should leave her out of it. If you want to patch things up with your son, you need to talk to your son. Not his girlfriend." I spoke from my own personal desire to not_ ever _have a conversation with God._

" _So you wouldn't pass a message on to your boyfriend from his parent?"_

 _The complete and honest truth? "No." Not just no, but Hell no!_

" _Well, that's not an unexpected answer, Chloe. Disappointing, but not unexpected. I did have a small hope that you would agree to act as an initial point of contact between myself and Samael, but I will respect your decision."_

I woke abruptly, my body jerking upwards against the heavy arm holding me down. And I hoped, and prayed, that the dream was simply a dream, a nightmare. And not some sort of a metaphysical conversation with the actual God. Because I was just barely coping with the knowledge that angels, the Devil, God, Heaven and Hell are real. I wasn't ready for anything more…. Especially since the Devil himself was spooned against me, from knees to shoulders, at least part of him up and ready for the day. And the arm over my waist had wandered under my shirt at some point while I slept and the attached hand was cupping my breast.

"In the interest of full disclosure," Lucifer spoke into my hair, "My hand did this while I was sleeping." I noticed he left out apologizing for the part of him trying to shove a hole in my thigh. "Although, I must say, it is a rather enjoyable way to wake up…." He very carefully moved his hand from my breast to my stomach, still underneath my shirt.

"And you didn't move it earlier because…."

"The polite answer is 'I didn't want to wake you.' The real answer?" I could hear the grin in his voice. "I was enjoying copping a feel." He snuggled his face into my hair. "This is the first time I have ever slept with someone without having had sex first. It's an intriguing feeling. I'm not sure I like it, though. The no sex part, I mean," he added hastily. Somehow I already knew that. "The cuddling part is surprisingly nice…." Now that surprised me.

"Dan and I used to lie like this when I was pregnant with Trixie," I offered. "That was one of my favorite parts of being pregnant. Especially when she was big enough for him to feel her kicking. The first time I felt her move? It was like teeny-tiny fingers or maybe champagne bubbles tickling my insides." I smiled at the memories, not really caring if Mr. I-despise-children cared to hear about my pregnancy. Or me with Dan.

Apparently he didn't because he changed the subject. "You are probably right. About my Father not causing my mortality… issues, that is. Shortly before you shot me, Linda suggested that I had put you on a pedestal, that I needed to level the playing field, so to speak. And the only way to level a playing field between a mortal and an immortal is to remove the immortality.

"I was going to tell you last night, but since you slept through me cleaning up your mess and carrying you to bed, I decided you needed your sleep more than I needed to tell you right away."

"What mess?" What was he talking about? I wiggled out from under his arm and rolled over to face him.

And completely lost my train of thought upon seeing the huge bandaid covering his upper arm. "What happened," I demanded, my fingers hovering above the bandage, wanting to touch and yet, at the same time, afraid of hurting him.

"What?" He turned his head following my hand. "Oh. Pierce. He was trying to stab me with Maze's knife," he explained nonchalantly. Like being stabbed was no big deal. No big deal? "I zigged when I should have zagged, and he got lucky. It's nothing, really; the paramedics told me it wasn't deep enough to require stitches. It doesn't even hurt anymore. Daniel said it was a good thing as it helps with the self-defense case. It will take a few extra days to heal because the blade is Hell forged…. But in a week or two, you won't be able to see the scar."

He sounded relaxed and confident, but I still felt a cold wave shiver through my body. If a Hell forged blade can cut his arm, it can cut through other body parts.

Pierce could have killed Lucifer with or without my presence-inducing mortality.

And this time the shiver racked my whole body. I clutched him tight, my eyes screwed tight against the threat of tears.

He sighed. "Once I put you on the roof, I was never in any danger from Pierce or his thugs. I made sure you were far enough away that their guns were useless. And Pierce? I was toying with him for him playing me for all those months… Like a cat with a mouse, and he got in a lucky jab. That's all." He kissed my hair. "Trust in me, please. I have gladly died to protect you and would do it again in a heartbeat, but in this situation you were already safe. Humans, even humans with Hell forged weapons, are no match for Celestials. My smallest, weakest sibling could have taken down Pierce with one hand tied."

To slightly misquote Hamlet, methinks the Devil doth protest too much. But his reassurances were... reassuring.

He pulled back slightly, enough that he could see my face. "Better?" I nodded. "Good. Then to finish our previous conversation: you dropped your glass when you fell asleep. There was brandy and glass everywhere. Took me half an hour to clean it all up. You snored through the whole thing." He reached out and tucked a strand of hair back behind my ear. "Dream or nightmare?"

The new non-sequitur confused the Hell out of me. "What?"

"You woke up suddenly. Twice. Dream or nightmare?"

"Oh." I had to think about what I was willing to tell him. "The one I just had was a nightmare. I was talking to your dad."

"My Dad doesn't talk to anyone."

"That's why it was a nightmare, OK? Not real?" Still fervently hoping it was not real.

"What did he want?"

"Your dream dad?" I tried to remember, but pieces had already faded from my memory. "Something about talking to you through me. I said no." He looked worried. "Lucifer, it was just a nightmare. Something I think I'm entitled to after the past few days." When he didn't say anything, I turned the tables on him. "Do you dream?"

"Yes, of course. Mostly about sex…. Sometimes I relive some of my more memorable extravaganzas."

"Do you ever dream about me?" That one slipped out accidently, thus demonstrating my own insecurities. Damn.

"Well, thanks to a dropped towel and a search for wings, I have been able to accurately dream about what most of you looks like naked, and I have envisioned several variations of what your butt looks like, but we've never actually gotten to the sex part. Sometimes your offspring or Daniel interrupted us, and you'd leave. Or my Devil face or wings would pop out and you'd run. Lately, it's been Pierce getting in the way…. Or I have nightmares where you've been shot or stabbed or…" he hesitated briefly, "anyway, you're dying and I can't save you."

OK, that was going to need some time to process. Did he seriously just say that I left him in every dream he had about me? "Lucifer, what about in your day dreams?"

"Oh, we've had plenty of sex in my day dreams. It's how I pass the time at the precinct when I'm bored."

"Eww." So that's how he kept himself occupied while I was busy doing paperwork? I closed my eyes so he couldn't see my eye roll, but when I looked at him again, he was grinning the exact same grin he has when he does see it.

I woke up from my first dream because he was saying something out of character: he was making plans for our future. But in _his_ dreams, we had no future: I left every time. Did he ever think about our future? "What was supposed to happen after you gave me the car? We'd go for a joy ride. I'd realize that a new car is so much better than a couple hundred roses shoved into my car to the point where I couldn't drive the thing _and_ it reeked for days afterwards. Or that dinner in your penthouse. We eat, end up in bed, I assume…. And then what?"

"You were supposed to break up with Pierce for good. And then… then we go back to normal."

Normal. 'Normal' was just as impossible now as it had been just a few days ago when he tried to restart our friendship. "So no plans to show me your wings? Or your devil face?" I asked through the lump in my throat. Stupid questions; I already knew the answer to them. "You never planned on telling me you loved me? Or for the possibility that I would love you back?"

Then the grin faded away into a serious expression. "No, I was not going to tell you. Or show you who I am." He paused for a long moment. "I've been thinking about what you said yesterday. About sharing." He paused again. "I offer you a promise, Chloe."

I was rather surprised, and so was he from the look on his face, to hear my response. "No."

"But it's what you want…." His face was rather adorable, all scrunched up in confusion.

I knew what he was going to offer: monogamy. And it's not that I didn't want that, because I did. I do. I struggled to find an explanation for my refusal. "I make promises to Trixie, and I try very hard to not break them. Because it hurts both of us. You…." My frustrated sigh was so heavy it was almost a snort. "You've said it so many times. 'My word is my bond.' You cannot break a promise. You won't _allow_ yourself to break a promise. And I don't ever want to be the reason you regret making one. Especially one made to me."

"I don't understand."

It was a huge struggle to come up with an example of why I don't want this promise. And this was the best I could come up with:

"If I decided I was going on a diet and I asked Trixie to promise to never eat chocolate cake, she probably would make that promise. And then she would be at a party and see everyone else eating chocolate cake. Or you or Dan would try to bribe her with a piece. And she'd regret that promise. Maybe not the first time, or even the second, but eventually. She'd want to hedge the promise. Rationalize that I couldn't possibly mean for her to never again eat chocolate cake. That most likely I meant for her not to eat it in front of me. But that's not what was promised. And if I said, yes, I really meant for her to never ever have chocolate cake again? She would come to resent me. And I don't want that for us." I sighed again. "Because I know you'll be at Lux one night and see yet another scrumptious looking piece of 'chocolate cake', and regret making me a promise that you didn't want to make. You'll resent me for forcing you into something you don't want."

"You said you didn't want to share me. But when I offer my promise to stay faithful, you say no? Chloe, I really don't understand."

I didn't fully understand my objections either. But something he had said yesterday was hovering in the back of my mind, something about his marriage…. I got up and padded across the room to the French doors, hoping that seeing the 'crime scene' would jog my memories. I heard his footsteps behind me, heard the rustle of silk as he put his dressing gown on. If I shifted my focal point, I could see our reflections in the glass, distorting, slightly, the view outside. His reflection in the glass moved closer, stopped next to mine. A bare handspan separated our shoulders.

Any other man I've dated would have lost the dressing gown on the way over, or simply not put it on in the first place, and stood behind me, not next to me. He would have pressed his naked front into my back and rubbed himself against my bum, letting me know just exactly what he wanted. And I would have been pressing right back letting him know I wanted it, too.

Were I just another one of Lucifer's Brittanies, I'm sure we'd be in full make-out mode already.

But he wasn't like any of my other dates. And I wasn't like his Brittanies.

As evidenced by our actions, or rather the lack of them, over the past half-hour or so since I woke up.

I bit my lip as the memory I searched for came into my brain. "You didn't want to be faithful to Candy; you were only because of your vows." I turned around and placed my hand on his cheek, absentmindedly rubbing the scruff with my thumb. "I want you to see those beautiful pieces of cake and pass them by because _you_ don't want them, not because of a promise to me. I want for me to be enough for you." I struggled to get the right words out. "The first dream I woke up from? You were in it." He grinned that self-satisfied shit-eating grin of his. "I woke up because you were making plans for our future. And I can't remember you ever doing that before." His grin started to fade. "Lucifer, I want a future with you. But can you tell me of a single dream, waking or asleep, where _you_ thought of a future with _me_? A real future. Not just sex. And not just us doing something in the next few hours or days." When he stayed silent, I prompted him. "Have you ever thought about going away on a vacation together? Or wondered what it might be like to move in together? Anything?"

Nothing.

And then answer I knew was coming and dreaded to hear: "No."

My hand fell away from his face to hang limply at my side. And despite having slept quite well the night before, I suddenly felt exhausted. Overwhelmed. Heartsick. This wasn't going to work.

Our relationship had never been what anyone would call healthy. And it had just taken a nosedive.

"I can't do this," I whispered. "I can't… be... do friends with benefits. I love you. So much. But I need more from you than 'right here, right now and let the future figure itself out'. I deserve more. You deserve more."

"Chloe, what are you saying?"

What was I saying? I looked into the eyes of a being who loved me so much that he was willing to die for me. But who would rather I believe a lie than show me his truth. A being who was so afraid to lose me that he could not envision a future with me. A being who had never known unconditional love. And who was still afraid that I loved him only because I was designed that way.

"I'm saying that I'll wait for you. I'm not going anywhere."

He was confused. "Wait for what?"

"For you. For when you finally dream of a future for us. Unto then?" I took a deep breath and pretended my heart wasn't breaking. "We find our new normal. Partners on the job. Friends outside of work."v

"And…."

"And someday, we'll share our dreams for our future. And we'll see what comes after 'normal'.

* * *

Author's note:

I hope you enjoy! I do apologize for taking so long. I was having a slight disagreement on how it should end: I thought one way and the story said no. So stubborn me refused to write for weeks because I wasn't going to get my way. I'm stubborn like that. Anyways. My one-shot which morphed into 4 chapters is fini.


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